Many Paths To Wisdom
by Ligeia
Summary: Postcards from the Edge of the Hellmouth 5: Cordelia and the Cordettes reveal their inner selves while Buffy and the Scoobies take a walk on the wild side. Episode tie-in: Season One.
1. Peer Pressure

Feedback is welcome on ligeia@telstra.com or read and review on my new site 'Blood Red Roses' at http://www.ligeia.envy.nu/bloodredroses.index.html Note: only the fanfic and guest book sections are active at the moment.  
  
Postcards from the Edge of the Hellmouth Part Five: Many Paths To Wisdom by Ligeia.  
  
Chapter One: Peer Pressure.  
  
It was raining outside and the school cafeteria was overcrowded and noisy. Students from the 'Open Day' committee made the most of the opportunity, handing out fliers for Friday's community 'meet and greet', checking with kids who were organising displays and activities or running stalls at the fund-raising fete afterwards.  
  
Buffy took a small carton of iced coffee, perched it precariously on top of her already heaped tray then looked around to see if there was a vacant seat anywhere. Frowning, she scanned the crowd until she caught sight of Willow and Xander waving at her from a small table near the door. The frown turned to a smile as she walked over to sit with them.  
  
'Sure you've got enough to eat there?' Xander asked with a grin. 'There's a whole afternoon to get through, you know!'  
  
'I'm a growing girl; I need my sustenance!' Buffy replied, the effect of her mock hauteur spoiled by the enthusiasm she showed in attacking her lunch. 'Besides, I've got training again after class,' she mumbled through a mouthful of chicken salad sandwich. 'I need to keep my strength up.'  
  
The noise level rose a few more decibels as Cordelia and several of her cronies, known around school as the Cordettes, arrived with a couple of the senior boys in tow. Cordy and her pals burst into the room, chattering and fluttering like a gaggle of noisy, flashy birds, talking too loudly and gesturing too much, pretending to ignore everyone while fully expecting to be the centre of attention.  
  
'Here comes Queen Cordy and her entourage!' Xander grumbled. 'Could there be a more pathetic display of public . . .' he searched vainly for a suitably derogatory phrase, 'patheticness!'  
  
'Yeah,' Buffy replied quietly, sighing. 'I mean, no!' she added more convincingly. Buffy used to be one of those girls; a high school princess, cheer leader and arbiter of all things fashionable, a leader of the pack. Now she hung out with the socially challenged and, God help her, the school librarian!  
  
Much to their surprise, Cordelia headed straight for Buffy and her friends. Xander leaped up out of his seat, hurriedly scooping up the remains of his own lunch.  
  
'We've finished here. We were just going!'  
  
'No, we're not!' Buffy managed to protest, grabbing a hold of her lunch tray before Xander whipped it out from under her.  
  
Cordelia gave Xander a withering look but didn't deign to speak to him. Instead, she turned her stunning smile on Buffy.  
  
'Do you want to come over to my place on Saturday night? My parents just put in a bigger pool and I'm having a summertime theme party to celebrate.'  
  
'To gloat you mean,' Willow mumbled, then quickly turned back to her own home-made cheese sandwich, eyes downcast, her brief moment of rebellion wilting under the direct glare of Cordelia's regal gaze.  
  
'Oh, we'd love to!' Buffy answered, a little too quickly.  
  
'We? What we?' Cordelia looked confused.  
  
'*Fabulous!* 'Xander chimed in. 'I've got this great new Hawaiian shirt I've been just *dying* to wear!'  
  
Willow giggled. She loved it when Xander hammed it up. He was so cool!  
  
'Oh, no!' Cordelia looked genuinely shocked. 'Not the geek squad!' She turned to Buffy. 'Just you! You still have *some* potential to be moulded back into social acceptability!'  
  
'Well, I . . .' Buffy looked at Willow and Xander, seeing the opportunity to regain some of her former popularity slipping away.  
  
'It's OK, Buffy,' Willow offered gently, 'you can still go. Don't worry about us. We're . . . busy that night anyway. Right, Xander?' She looked to her friend for confirmation.  
  
'Yeah . . . right . . . we're, ah . . . ' Xander looked expectantly back at Willow with eyebrows raised inquiringly, hoping for inspiration.  
  
'. . . reorganising . . . ?' Willow added hopefully.  
  
'That's it! We're reorganising!' Xander said confidently. He paused, stumped again, then whispered to Willow. 'What are we reorganising?'  
  
'My . . . ah . . . ' Willow cast about for an appropriate response, then piped up brightly, 'my Barbie collection!'  
  
'Perfect!' Xander cringed. 'Thanks, Will! Way to enhance my reputation as a man to be taken seriously!'  
  
'Whatever.' Cordelia was not really listening. 'So, Buffy, are you gonna ditch these losers and make your first tentative steps towards establishing an actual social life here in Sunnydale?'  
  
Buffy looked dejected and sighed again. 'I'm not coming if Willow and Xander aren't invited.'  
  
'Oh, well, your loss! There's only so much I'm willing to do in the name of charity.'  
  
Buffy blushed furiously as Cordelia flounced off, her retinue trailing along behind, giggling and looking back over their shoulders.  
  
'Buffy,' Willow began, 'I'm so sorry! You didn't have to do that because of us. You work really hard to keep us all safe. You deserve to have better friends!'  
  
'Willow's right,' Xander added. 'You have the whole rest of your high school life ahead of you. We'll understand if you want to be friends with the popular kids. Just because we're not part of the 'in' crowd, doesn't mean you have to blow off the party.'  
  
'Yes,' Buffy answered firmly, 'it does.'  
  
Even though she had known them only a short time, Xander and Willow had already proven themselves the truest friends she had ever had. None of her so-called best friends from Hemery High had bothered contacting her since she left Los Angeles. Not even a single phone call or email! One little vampire incident and they had dropped her like last year's lip-gloss! She knew she was lucky to have found such courageous and supportive companions as these two.  
  
Still, Buffy ate the rest of her lunch in silence.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The school day was long over but Julia remained glued to the computer screen working on Buffy's family history. She had chased down several promising leads, tracing every branch of the last few generations of the Nine Families from which all Vampire Slayers were born.  
  
The Council of Watchers kept scrupulous records of all mother-daughter relationships within hundreds of family lines across six continents with written genealogies going back thousands of years in some cases. Girl- children with Slayer potential were closely monitored until they reached the age of majority; likewise any daughters they produced. Only when a family line ended without female issue was it released from constant observation.  
  
Every possibility had ended in a blank wall. Even so, Julia Devereaux was not willing to concede that the new Chosen One had appeared spontaneously out of the 'normal' population. Buffy's lineage must have diverged at some stage from one of the Nine. But when? And how? Maybe it was time to try approaching the problem from a different direction.  
  
Giles had taken Buffy for weapons practice that evening. When they came out of the training room on a ten-minute break he looked flustered and she seemed disgruntled. Buffy had not been very enthusiastic about training lately and Giles became more frustrated with her lack of concentration as each day went by. He stalked upstairs to his office without a word while Buffy slumped down in a chair next to Julia.  
  
'Giles gave you the 'Chosen One' talk again, I take it?' Julia guessed.  
  
'Uh-hunh.' Buffy sounded tired. Julia kept typing.  
  
'Okay,' the teenager continued without prompting, 'I know he's right. But why does it all have to be so hard?'  
  
'I don't know the answer to that one, sweetie. That's the life of a Slayer I guess.' Julia felt sorry for the young girl. To have such a huge responsibility at her age was unfair. Maybe it was better after all that Willow and Xander had become involved; Buffy could have the semblance of a normal life with kids her own age. Some of the time at least.  
  
'Whatcha workin' on?' Buffy leaned over to look at the document Julia had up on screen. It was a complex family tree but none of the names looked familiar.  
  
'I'm still trying to trace your family history. Your ancestry has to link up to one of the existing Slayer families somewhere along the line.'  
  
'Any luck so far?'  
  
"No.'  
  
'Any possibility that you've got the wrong girl?'  
  
Julia laughed. 'I'm afraid not! There's no way you could have the abilities you do without being the Chosen One of your generation.'  
  
'You're starting to sound just like Giles!'  
  
'Well, I'm afraid he's right, Buffy. Slaying is your destiny.'  
  
Buffy grew quiet again. Sometimes she fantasised that it was all some kind of mistake and when they discovered the error she could go back to being a normal sixteen year old.  
  
'Where are Willow and Xander?' Julia inquired. 'Aren't you meeting up with them after practice?'  
  
Buffy shrugged. There was a trendy new café at the mall and her friends had gone out for coffee and a movie after school but Buffy had made an excuse not to join them. Willow, kind and gentle as always, had tried to make Buffy feel better after the incident in the cafeteria and Xander had tried to jolly her out of her depression, but they only reminded her of her fall from social grace. Now Buffy was feeling guilty about having such disloyal thoughts.  
  
Julia continued. 'You know, it would be a lot easier if you'd let me talk to your Mum about her family background.'  
  
Buffy was instantly alarmed at the idea. She stood up too quickly, toppling the wooden chair over onto the floor with a bump.  
  
'There's no way I'm involving Mom in any of this! She's been through way too much already! I don't care if we never find out!'  
  
Julia stood up too, surprised to see Buffy's eyes brimming with tears. The child was obviously much more stressed out than she had realised.  
  
'It's OK, Buffy!' Julia reached out to soothe away a stray tear from Buffy's cheek. 'I promise I won't say anything to your Mum!'  
  
Giles poked his head out of his office, concerned by the sound of raised voices.  
  
'Everything alright down there?'  
  
Buffy turned her face so Giles couldn't see her cry, quickly drying her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.  
  
'Everything's fine, Giles.' Julia turned back to Buffy. 'Why don't you take a break from training this evening? Go out and find your friends? Have some fun. I'll square it with Giles, OK?'  
  
Buffy nodded, still a little tearful, and went to get changed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Buffy found Willow and Xander finishing up coffee and cake at the Café Jardinière and the three of them headed off towards the cinema complex on the top level of the mall. On the way Buffy apologised for even considering Cordelia's invitation.  
  
'I don't know why I said yes in the first place. I don't even like Cordelia!' Buffy said. 'Just a reflex reaction to the word 'party' I guess!'  
  
'We understand, Buff,' Xander replied. 'We're not exactly in high demand on the party circuit of the soon-to-be rich and famous!'  
  
'Yeah,' Willow said morosely, 'we'll be lucky to get invited to our own prom!'  
  
Buffy and Xander both gave her a pained look.  
  
'See,' she added brightly, 'I can do sarcasm, too!'  
  
'Sure you can, Will,' Xander said, throwing his arm around Willow's shoulder. 'You're just not very good at it!'  
  
As they rounded the corner to the entertainment complex they passed a small 'theme' café called The New Orleans Tea Room. It specialised in imported teas, coffees, Continental cakes and pastries but the main attraction was the two or three fortune-tellers on hand to read patrons' tea-leaves or palms. An old black woman locked up the front door as they walked by.  
  
'Hello, Mrs Janvier!' Willow called out as they approached.  
  
'Hello, Willow!' The old lady hoisted up an armload of shopping bags and other packages and headed for the elevator, smiling broadly at the youngsters as she went by.  
  
Just as she reached the elevator the doors opened and Cordelia's gang piled out, bumping into the old woman and sending her parcels skidding along the floor. Instead of moving to help her retrieve the items, Cordelia stepped over them, saying snootily, 'Why don't you watch where you're going! I could have tripped on that junk!'  
  
Mitch, Cordelia's current boyfriend and one of the more obnoxious of the football jocks, wasn't content to leave it at that.  
  
'Yeah, you old witch!' He kicked one of the fallen articles away from Mrs Janvier's grasp as she bent over on hands and knees reaching for it. She looked up, a shocked expression on her face.  
  
'Hey,' Mitch continued, looking around to ensure he was the centre of the group's attention, 'you seen any good zombies lately!' He began stomping around with his arms outstretched, doing his best Frankenstein impression, egged on by the amused snickering of the Cordettes.  
  
'Hey, quit that!' Buffy yelled. Momentarily stunned by the other teens' behaviour, she now rushed forward with Willow and Xander to help Mrs Janvier but Mitch had already stopped playing the fool and offered a hand to help the old lady to her feet.  
  
Meanwhile, the red headed girl, Aphrodisia, picked up one of the shopping bags and opened it, taking a smaller brown paper bag from inside.  
  
'Whatcha got in here anyway?' she asked, putting the bag to her nose and sniffing. 'Phew! What a stink!'  
  
Another of the girls, Aura, snatched it away. 'Probably dried up chicken guts! She uses all that voodoo stuff, don't you, you old bat!'  
  
Cordelia made no attempt to stop her friends but stood back with her arms folded, grinning, then whispered something to Harmony that made the other girl snigger nastily.  
  
'Careful, Aura,' Harmony sneered, 'Witchy-Woman might put a curse on you!'  
  
Not to be outdone in macho display, the other boy in the group, Keith, moved forward, upending a large shopping bag and spilling the contents out onto the floor. More brown paper bags and plastic Baggies full of desiccated plant material were strewn everywhere.  
  
'Let's see what else you have in here!' He started opening up bags at random, tipping the dried plant fragments onto the tiles.  
  
'That's enough!' Xander stepped up and pushed Keith away from the mess, surprising both of them with his vehemence. Mitch stepped away from Mrs Janvier and moved towards Xander, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling him back from Keith. Xander's bravado died away as he found himself facing two of the school's most notorious bullies. He swallowed hard.  
  
Buffy had seen and heard enough. She handed Willow the things she had gathered up off the floor and pushed herself between Xander and the two troublemakers.  
  
'Fine,' she said. 'Now that you've impressed us all with your wit and bravery in the face of the obvious threat posed by this one little old lady, perhaps you'd like to find some one else to harass! Say, someone more your own size maybe?' Buffy stood so close to Mitch that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. 'Or at least your own age?'  
  
Mitch looked at Keith and laughed, incredulous, then turned back to Buffy.  
  
'You're not suggesting you can take *me* on, are you, little girl?' He looked around at the others, still smiling. 'I mean, I know you got some kind of rep for fighting, but come on, get real!' Mitch reached out and grabbed Buffy by the arm, much harder than necessary. She stepped quickly towards him, grasping his shirtfront and pulling him forward. Suddenly off- balance, he felt his feet kicked out from under him, landing him on the floor with all of Buffy's weight on her knee in the middle of his back. She twisted his arm up, hard, behind his back.  
  
'Real enough for ya?'  
  
Cordelia wasn't smiling any more. 'OK, kiddies, that's enough playtime for now,' she said scornfully. 'Let's go guys. I'm already late for my hair appointment, and you know how Antonio hates to be kept waiting!' Buffy stepped back and let Mitch up.  
  
As Cordy and the others walked off she could not resist a parting shot. Being sure to speak loudly enough for all to hear, Cordelia remarked, 'This mall should have some kind of entry criteria. They seem to let just *anyone* in!'  
  
Buffy and Xander finished retrieving the rest of the scattered articles while Willow stood with her arm around Mrs Janvier.  
  
'We're really sorry!' Willow was telling her. 'They're not usually like that!'  
  
'Oh, come on, Will!' Xander interrupted angrily. 'You know they are!' Xander was not only still fuming over the other teenagers' behaviour, he was also embarrassed that Buffy had had to save him, yet again. That he'd had to back down from two of the school's toughest athletes, he could handle, but being rescued by a girl half his size! OK, she was the Slayer. But who knew? He had come off looking like a wuss, as usual! That he'd been secretly relieved when Buffy had stepped in only made him feel worse.  
  
'Are you OK, Mrs Janvier?' Buffy asked.  
  
'I'm fine, child. Don't any of you fret!' The old lady's broad smile had returned. 'And do please call me Mama Lucette! All of my friends do.' She had taken the packages back but now turned and placed them on a bench seat by the elevators. 'You are all so kind and good to help an old woman like me. You must let me thank you somehow!'  
  
'Don't be silly!' Buffy said. 'I'm glad we were here to help.'  
  
Willow was unsuccessfully trying to scoop up bits of the spilled herbs from the floor.  
  
'What should I do with this?' she asked, holding out a handful of something unidentifiable. 'Is it ruined?'  
  
'Don't concern yourself, little sister Willow. Just throw it away. My daughter will replace it all from the Botanica.'  
  
Buffy threw Willow a confused look.  
  
'Mrs Janvier's . . . I mean, Mama Lucette's .' Willow grinned self- consciously, 'daughter owns the herbalist store downtown.'  
  
'Oh . . . that's what all that stuff is!' Xander heaved a sigh of relief, then realised what he had done. Embarrassed again, he started to bluster, 'Not that I thought it was . . . I mean, I didn't believe what they . . ! Oh, boy . . .' he trailed off. 'I'm just shoving that foot deeper in every time I open my mouth so I'm gonna shut up now!'  
  
But Mama Lucette was laughing kindly. Reaching into one of the bags, she withdrew three handmade beaded bracelets, handing one each to Willow, Xander and Buffy.  
  
'Bracelets like these are made in my hometown in Haiti. They bring good luck. I made these ones myself.'  
  
Willow stared at hers then slipped it on. 'It's so beautiful!' she said.  
  
Each bracelet had several rows of tiny beads. Some were made of polished seeds or stones, others were coloured glass or natural clay; several had been carved or painted with designs so intricate it was impossible to believe they had been done by hand.  
  
'You really don't need to give us anything,' Buffy said, but she was already wearing hers too.  
  
Even Xander seemed pleased with his. 'So, you're not really from New Orleans, then, huh?' he observed.  
  
'Xander!' Buffy snapped, giving him a withering glance.  
  
'Oh, that's alright, child.' Mama Lucette gave another deep chuckle. 'The boy is only curious.' She patted Buffy on the hand, leaving it there a moment as though something had caught her attention, then continued. 'I left Haiti when I was about your age. My father moved us to New Orleans. And now I have moved here to Sunnydale to live closer to my own daughter.'  
  
'Really, we didn't mean to pry,' Buffy offered.  
  
Willow, who had not taken her eyes from her bracelet since she had put it on her wrist, spoke up.  
  
'Mama Lucette,' she said, lifting her gaze to the older woman, 'do you have any more of these?'  
  
'Why, yes, little sister. I have dozens of them. I was planning on selling them through my daughter's shop. Why?'  
  
'I think the kids at school would like them as much as we do. We're having a fete on Friday. You could set up a stall and sell them there!'  
  
'Why, what a wonderful idea!' The old lady seemed very pleased.  
  
Buffy lifted Mama Lucette's packages from the seat, handing a couple each to Xander and Willow.  
  
'Come on. We'll walk you down to the car park.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Julia was eating lunch in front of the computer when Willow walked into the library on the day of the school fete.  
  
'Ah, just the girl I wanted to see!' The English woman patted the seat beside her. 'Come over here and help me with this. I have another of those pesky problems with the hard drive.'  
  
'Oh, OK.' Willow sat down in front of the laptop that Julia had brought from home. It was connected to the internet and seemed fine. 'There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it,' she began. Julia lifted her eyes towards the library's upper level, indicating that Giles was upstairs in his office. His door was open.  
  
'Oh . . . ,' Willow nodded, '*that* hard drive problem!' Willow had helped Julia access records not generally available to the public on several previous occasions, a practise of which Giles did not wholly approve. Unless, of course, it was a matter of life and death . . . which this wasn't. They had agreed on a code phrase to use if Giles was nearby; anything remotely computer-related was suitable. Giles was almost entirely computer illiterate, his only concession being the use of email which he only condoned, as he put it, 'on grounds of expediency'.  
  
Julia got up to give Willow more room, moving her half-finished sandwich out of the way, then stood looking over her shoulder as the young girl worked her keyboard magic.  
  
'So, what are we accessing today?' Willow asked, anticipating the challenge. 'City plans? DMV records? Secret government files? The nefarious plans of a multi-national corporation using its power for evil?'  
  
Julia slipped a piece of paper onto the table where Willow could read it.  
  
'The Mercy Hospice at Santa Clarita?' Willow looked up, confused. 'What's that? Some kind of old folks' home?'  
  
'Something like that.'  
  
'Oh . . . ' Willow seemed disappointed. 'Is there at least some kind of Hellmouthy activity going on there?'  
  
'No. At least none that I know of. I need to see the personal records of one of the long-term residents.'  
  
'One of the patients?'  
  
'Yes. I'm hoping to trace a woman who may be able to fill in some of the blanks in Buffy's family tree.'  
  
A few minutes later Giles came hurrying downstairs in more than his usual fluster. He turned to Julia just as he was about to rush out into the hallway.  
  
'Aren't you coming?' he asked.  
  
Julia was puzzled. 'Coming where, Giles?'  
  
'Don't we have a staff meeting in five minutes?'  
  
'No, Rupert. We don't.'  
  
'Then what am I supposed to be doing at 1.00 P.M.?'  
  
Julia took a deep breath. 'The school Open Day.'  
  
'What about it?'  
  
'It's today.' The penny still hadn't dropped. She tried again. 'You're giving a talk to parents and teachers on the importance of allocating sufficient school funds for the maintenance of proper library facilities.'  
  
'I am?'  
  
'Not if you keep standing there asking me questions!'  
  
'Oh . . . of course.' Giles started to leave again then stopped.  
  
'I have just one more question.'  
  
'Room 12 in the Home Ec wing.'  
  
'That's not my question . . . ' Giles blinked owlishly, 'but thanks anyway.'  
  
'Then what is your question, Giles?'  
  
'Why do you someone's private medical and personal records on your computer screen?'  
  
*Bloody hell!* Julia thought, looking at Willow, both of them incredulous. *The man has eyes like a hawk behind those horn-rims!*  
  
'You're not . . . ah . . . chopping, again, are you?'  
  
'That's 'hacking', Giles. And I would suggest,' Julia offered, 'that if you don't want to be late for your talk you'd better go and leave us to it.'  
  
Giles seemed to be searching for an appropriate response, thought better of it and left, grumbling something about not being kept fully informed about what was going on in his own library.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The Open Day went well and the fete afterwards saw the school grounds packed with students, parents and the general public from all over Sunnydale. Kids from the local college had started arriving mid-afternoon and were finding themselves places on the grass in the centre of the athletics oval ready for the bands who would be performing on the temporary stage there later that evening.  
  
Lucette Janvier's stall was doing a great trade in ethnic Haitian merchandise - home-made hot sauces and mango pies, naïf-style paintings by Mama Lucette's talented daughter Hannah, pretty scarves printed from natural dyes - all were popular with the fete-goers. But the real hit of the day were the charmingly exotic bracelets. Before the fete was over almost half the student population, boys and girls, along with many of the adults could be seen wearing them.  
  
Cordelia's group were conspicuous in their avoidance of that particular stall. Which was not to say that Cordy didn't want one of the lovely bracelets as much as any of the other girls. Mitch noticed his girlfriend becoming more and more irritable each time she saw someone else admiring the jewellery.  
  
He decided to do something about it.  
  
While Cordy and the others went to watch a band from the Bronze set up for the night's entertainment, Mitch wandered over to Mrs Janvier's stall. When he got there Mama Lucette was talking with Buffy's mother, showing her a handful of the bracelets. Noticing the boy picking through a basket of the few remaining pieces of jewellery, Mama Lucette excused herself and asked the boy if she could help him with anything.  
  
Seeming a little uncomfortable, Mitch said, 'Look, I'm really sorry about the other day at the mall. No hard feelings, huh?'  
  
'Of course not,' Lucette agreed, smiling thinly. 'Consider it forgotten. Do you see anything you like?'  
  
The woven basket contained several pretty pieces but none of the bracelets remained.  
  
'Well, I wanted to buy some of those bead bracelets but I can't see any here.'  
  
'They have all been sold,' Mama Lucette said. 'Perhaps in a few days you can check at my daughter's store. I will have made some more by then.' She went to turn away.  
  
'What about those? The ones you just showed Mrs Summers?'  
  
'Oh, these?' Mama Lucette still had them in her hand. 'I am afraid these are not for sale. I have made them especially for a friend. I was showing them to Mrs Summers because she is thinking of selling some in her gallery.'  
  
'I'll pay you twice what you've been charging!' Mitch suddenly felt a deep sense of disappointment. He wanted to surprise Cordy; show her that he cared! He *needed* to have those bracelets!  
  
'I am sorry. They are promised elsewhere.' Mama Lucette dropped the bracelets into a small wooden box under the cloth-covered table and turned back to her conversation with Joyce.  
  
Anger overtook disappointment. How dare she refuse to sell him the bracelets! Mitch knew the old lady only wanted to punish him for what had happened at the mall. Forgotten was it? Then he'd give her something else to think about! Mitch leaned across the stall and reached under the tabletop, grabbing the box full of bracelets.  
  
Mama Lucette turned to watch Mitch as he walked off to join Cordy and the others, a wider smile lighting her face this time.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Once into the patient records Willow left Julia to it and went to join her friends at the fete.  
  
Julia read through the financial records of an elderly patient who had lived in the residential wing of the hospice for the past fourteen years. While the majority of her care was paid for out of a small pension, details of another source of income had caught Julia's attention. The cost of private accommodations was made possible by moderate but regular cheque payments from an organisation listed as the Janus Club of St James Park in London.  
  
This, Julia knew, was a private club for members only. She had been there often while living in England over a decade ago. It was the covert headquarters of the Council of Watchers in London.  
  
Leaving a quick note for Giles, Julia grabbed her coat from the rack and headed for the car park.  
  
* * * * * 


	2. Party Animals

Chapter Two: Party Animals.  
  
Cordy was suitably impressed by Mitch's gift. The little wooden box contained half a dozen of the beaded bracelets, enough for all of them.  
  
'These'll look great with our outfits for the party!' she exclaimed, giving Mitch a quick kiss as he dropped her off at home after the post-fete concert.  
  
'Are your parents still planning on being away all weekend?' he asked.  
  
'Sure are!' Cordy grinned. 'They're flying out first thing in the morning. Dad's got a business meeting in San Francisco tomorrow so he and Mom are staying there with her sister until Sunday night.'  
  
'And they're OK with you being home alone? With the party and everything?' Mitch pulled Cordelia closer. 'Unsupervised?'  
  
Cordelia giggled. 'Our housekeeper's coming over tomorrow afternoon to help set up for the party. She's staying on overnight.' She snuggled against Mitch's chest. 'She does however have a little . . . drinking problem. And as I've arranged to leave the liquor cabinet unlocked, I imagine she'll be sleeping through most of the festivities!'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Santa Clarita's Mercy Hospice was a Spanish-style complex at the edge of town. Extensive well-tended gardens and the calming presence of the nuns tending the sick and aged gave the facility an air of tranquillity and compassion.  
  
It was late afternoon by the time Julia arrived and the Sister in charge was reluctant to allow her to visit the old woman she had come to see, especially as Julia admitted she was neither relative nor friend of the elderly resident.  
  
When Julia explained that she was hoping to confirm a family connection, Sister Veronica relented.  
  
'She never has visitors, you know. I'd always assumed her family were all still in England. It would be wonderful,' she said as they walked through the shaded corridors to the residential wing, 'to find that there were relatives right here in California!'  
  
'Well, I can't really be certain,' Julia said. 'I don't have much to go on which is why I wanted to speak with her in person.'  
  
At the end of the hall Sister Veronica opened a set of doors that led into a conservatory overlooking lawns and palm trees. Several patients, some in wheelchairs, and a couple of nurses sat enjoying the last warm rays of the sun.  
  
'Over by the bay window; she has the red rug over her knees,' Sister Veronica indicated a grey-haired lady of about eighty who was reading a newspaper by the yellowing daylight. 'Oh, and I forgot to mention - she's a little deaf!'  
  
'Mrs Mitchell?' Julia put a gentle hand on the old woman's shoulder to gain her attention. 'Helena Mitchell?'  
  
'Yes, dear?' Mrs Mitchell removed a pair of rimless reading glasses with gnarled but still steady hands. She peered at Julia for a moment. 'Do I know you?'  
  
'No ma'am,' Julia replied, 'you don't.' She explained that she was tracing the family history of a girl at the school where she worked. 'It's very important that I find out the truth about this girl's background. She's rather . . . special. I was hoping you'd be able to answer a few questions. I know it's very personal but I need some information about a child you gave birth to in New York in 1935.'  
  
'My son George? Why, he's a doctor in Maryland now. He has a grown family of his own! Why do you want to know about him?'  
  
'Not your son, Mrs Mitchell,' Julia said softly. 'I want to ask you about your daughter. The one you gave up for adoption when she was six days old.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
The Chase's left for the airport early Saturday morning leaving Cordelia curled up in bed. When the read-out on her digital clock showed 09:00 she finally rolled out from under the covers, reluctantly abandoning the comfort of the blankets.  
  
She drew a hot bath but got out again after only a few minutes, finding it impossible to relax in the fragrant bubbly warmth. Somehow the water seemed less soothing than usual, its slickness lapping unpleasantly against her skin. Cordy got out feeling twitchy and on edge. Putting it down to anticipation of the party that night, she towelled off quickly and dressed in her bathrobe, slipped the bracelet Mitch had given her back onto her wrist and headed downstairs to the kitchen for a nerve-steadying cup of coffee.  
  
While the percolator did its work Cordy walked down the driveway to retrieve the morning newspaper. She looked around the lawn; the paper was nowhere to be seen.  
  
'Damn that delivery-boy!' Cordelia opened up the front gates and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The paper was up against the bricks of the three metre high wall surrounding the double wrought-iron gates.  
  
'Good morning, Cordelia!' A neighbour across the street was out walking Fluffy, her tiny Pomeranian dog.  
  
'Hi, Mrs Forbes.' Cordy raised a hand to wave when the little dog caught sight of her. The normally friendly pooch erupted into a frenzy of excitement, barking, snarling and straining at the leash. Caught by surprise, Mrs Forbes let the strap slip out of her hand. The little orange ball of fury went hurtling across the road straight for Cordelia who let out a little scream as she ducked back into the yard, quickly closing the heavy gates behind her.  
  
'Oh, dear!' Mrs Forbes trotted over the restrain the errant Fluffy. 'I don't know what's gotten into him!' she exclaimed. 'He's never done that before!'  
  
Badly shaken, Cordy's heart was beating wildly but she regained her composure enough to assure Mrs Forbes that she was all right. The older woman continued on with her walk, berating Fluffy for his unneighbourly behaviour.  
  
By the time Cordelia entered the kitchen again the coffee was ready. Taking a mug from over the sink she filled it and took a sip of the steaming liquid.  
  
'Oh, yuck!' The coffee tasted thick and bitter. Cordy tipped it into the sink and took down a large glass tumbler instead. Taking the milk from the refrigerator she filled the glass to the brim and drank it down thirstily. Opening the fridge door to replace the milk, Cordelia paused, then began drinking the rest of the milk straight from the carton.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, Aura held up the gorgeous new red dress she had bought to wear to Cordy's party that evening. The deep claret colour was stunning against her smooth black skin and the polished earthy tones of her new bracelet would set it off beautifully.  
  
Aura put the dress back in its tissue-lined box in the wardrobe and sat down in front of the mirrored vanity. Taking a silver-backed brush, she hummed quietly to herself as she began running it through her long dark hair.  
  
After a few moments she stopped brushing . . . and humming . . . as she realised her brush was clogged with hair. Leaning in closer to the mirror Aura noticed a large clump missing from a spot over her right temple.  
  
Rushing into the bathroom where the light was better she pulled the hair back from the area, then began to cry.  
  
Her scalp was covered with places where her long wavy hair had fallen out, leaving behind a patchwork short woolly tufts.  
  
'Mom!' Aura called out frantically, forgetting in her distress that both parents were out at the club for a day of golf. 'Mom! . Mom! . Maa. aaa. aaa!'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Keith came out of the sauna at the gym with a towel wrapped around his hips and headed for the change rooms. He had developed a splitting headache over night, his joints ached and his skin itched unbearably. Suspecting he was coming down with something Keith hoped the hot steam would clear his head and stave off any bug he might have picked up. No way would he miss being at Cordelia's party tonight!  
  
Dressed once more in jeans and a tee shirt Keith took the beaded bracelet out of his gym bag and slipped it back on. *God*, he thought, rubbing the stubble on his chin, *everything aches*! Even his teeth hurt! In fact, his lower jaw felt strangely loose, almost unhinged.  
  
Popping into the men's room Keith dropped his bag beside a hand basin and leaned across it to examine his aching mouth in the mirror. The gums above both of his upper canines must have receded; the teeth looked oddly long. Glancing down, Keith was shocked to notice flakes of dark scaly skin forming on the backs of his hands. He tried to scratch off some of the thick, hard scale, succeeding in pulling off a large piece only to leave an oozing bloodied patch behind.  
  
'Shit!' he exclaimed, his voice sounding strangely sibilant in the long, echoey bathroom.  
  
Gazing into the mirror at his own rapidly discolouring face, Keith gaped in horrified disbelief at the forked tongue that flicked out from between his lightly closed lips.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Across town at the Sunnydale Mall, Harmony and Aphrodisia sat in adjacent chairs at Antonio's Hair Salon, happily chatting about that night's party.  
  
One of the stylists, Laura, worked on Aphrodisia, brushing her hair into an upswept mass of curls, while Antonio himself trimmed Harmony's in preparation for an elegant new cut.  
  
Combing through her long blonde hair, Antonio remarked, 'Have you considered a colour, Harmony?'  
  
'A colour?' Harmony said indignantly. 'I'm a natural blonde! I don't need to colour my hair!'  
  
Raising his eyebrows, Antonio said, 'Well, this grey could do with a little covering.'  
  
'Grey!' Harmony almost leapt out of her chair. 'What the hell are you talking about?'  
  
Antonio grasped the end of a lock of Harmony's hair and held it forward for her to see up close. The entire hank was silky white, almost silver, under the strong fluorescent lights.  
  
'Oh, my God!' Harmony's screamed, turning heads throughout the salon. 'How could this have happened! It was fine this morning!' She turned to her hairdresser who looked shocked at her outburst. 'I'm sure it was! I can't be going grey at sixteen! Can I?' Antonio shrugged.  
  
Laura had stopped parting Aphrodisia's long red locks and was trying to remove something from close to the scalp.  
  
'What have you been putting in your hair?' Laura asked, plucking out a tiny blue fleck.  
  
'Ouch!' Aphrodisia's hand flew to her head. 'That hurt!'  
  
Harmony was becoming more and more upset. Antonio tried to calm her, rather insensitively, by showing her packets of hair dye. She slapped them out of his hand, scattering them on the floor amongst the hair clippings, and started to cry.  
  
Laura, who had continued to discover bits of foreign material lodged in Aphro's curls, held out a hand full of blue and yellow fluff. 'That's nothing!' she gasped. 'This one's got feathers!'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Cordelia was becoming increasingly edgy. She padded around the house, still dressed only in her robe, not able to settle anywhere. Her skin felt hot. Her eyes felt funny. The slightest sound or movement had her head snapping around to locate the source.  
  
She went upstairs again to her bathroom to find some aromatherapy oil. Burning it while she listened to a relaxation tape might do the trick. Cordy had to be fresh and bright for this evening; appearances had to be kept up. She couldn't arrive at her own party looking enervated and drawn; she was, after all, the most important person in her social circle.  
  
Taking the lavender oil from the cabinet above the hand basin, Cordy caught sight of herself in the mirror as she shut the door. She stood and gazed at her reflection for a moment, not believing what she saw, then leaned forward for a closer look. Slowly, she raised her hands to both of her ears, which were now pointed and tipped with soft brown fuzz.  
  
Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a cry, long thin scratches appearing on her cheeks as Cordy raked her face with newly-developed claws. Tears filled her yellow-green eyes.  
  
* * * * *  
  
'I'll get it!' Buffy called to her Mom as she ran to pick up the phone extension ringing in the kitchen. 'Summers' residence,' she answered brightly.  
  
'Buffy? Is that you?' It was Cordelia. 'Can you come to my house?'  
  
'Are you inviting me to the party?' Buffy was confused; she had already said no.  
  
'No! I need your help over here!'  
  
'You want help setting up the party?' Buffy couldn't believe it. 'You've got to be kidding!' What a nerve! How typical of Cordelia to assume she could call out of the blue and have Buffy jumping to attention!  
  
'NO!' Cordy sounded upset. 'I need you over here . . . NOW!'  
  
Buffy was taken aback by the urgency in Cordelia's voice and by her obvious distress; she began to suspect this was nothing to do with the party.  
  
'What's wrong, Cordelia?' Buffy could hear her sobbing on the other end of the line. 'Are you OK?'  
  
'No,' she sniffled. 'No, I'm not OK. Something's happening to me . . . ' Cordy's voice fell to a hoarse whisper, ' . . . and I don't know how to stop it! Please . . . help me!'  
  
Please? Now Buffy was sure something was very wrong. 'Hang on, Cordelia. I'll be right there!'  
  
* * * * *  
  
The doorbell rang just as Cordy hung up the phone. With a towel wrapped around her head to cover her ears and her hands in the pockets of her bathrobe, she went to see who it was.  
  
On the doorstep were Aphrodisia and Harmony, both girls wearing scarves; Harmony had hers wrapped around the lower half of her face. Cordelia opened the door and motioned them inside. The girls noticed Cordelia's hands. Her fingers had grown stubby and sported long thin claws.  
  
Without a word they both removed their scarves. Harmony's hair was now completely white. Her eyes were a dark liquid brown, and . . . worst of all . . . her nose tip was black and moist.  
  
As for Aphrodisia, all of her beautiful red hair was gone. In its place was a tight cap of blue and yellow feathers that continued along the cheekbones, jawline and down her neck.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Julia was at home pottering back and forth between the newly renovated kitchen, where she was throwing together a Greek salad for lunch, and the laptop on the coffee table in the lounge room. Her conversation yesterday evening with the elderly resident of the Mercy Hospice had set her in the right direction and she had spent all morning filling in the blanks, through various legal channels this time. Her investigation of Buffy's genealogy was almost complete.  
  
Julia's only problem then would be how much to reveal . . . and to whom.  
  
Buffy's urgent call to meet her at Cordelia Chase's home came as a surprise.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Buffy met Julia at the door of the Chases' two storey home, then led her inside.  
  
'I just don't know what to make of this,' she told Julia, opening the sitting room door. Julia stepped into the room and looked around for a moment, puzzled.  
  
'Where are Mr and Mrs Chase?' Julia asked.  
  
'San Francisco. For the weekend.' Buffy also looked around the room. 'Luckily.'  
  
'And where's Cordelia?'  
  
'There. On the sofa.' Buffy pointed towards the expensive white leather settee.  
  
'Buffy . . . that's a cat.' Julia was confused. Buffy didn't usually go in for practical jokes - not that she knew of, anyway. 'I don't understand. Why are all these animals in the Chase's sitting room?'  
  
Besides the brown tabby cat curled up on the leather seat, there was a small Maltese terrier sitting on the Persian rug nearby. It raised its head and gave a small whimper as Julia spoke. On a glass-topped end table a lovely hyacinth macaw walked delicately among the ornaments, occasionally picking one up in its clawed foot and nibbling at it with its huge beak.  
  
'When I got here they were still . . . mostly . . . human.'  
  
Julia stared at Buffy for long moments. 'You're telling me that these . . . household pets are Cordelia and . . . and who?'  
  
'Harmony and Aphrodisia.'  
  
'How?' Julia was totally mystified. 'And why?'  
  
'Don't know and . . . don't know.'  
  
'You say they were partly . . . what? Transformed . . . when you got here?' Julia approached the sofa for a better look. 'Able to talk?' She glanced back at Buffy, who nodded. 'What did they tell you? Did they have any idea what's causing this?'  
  
'Cordy was the only one coherent enough to talk,' Buffy said. 'She wasn't much help. Her parents are away, thank God. This . . . ' Buffy waved her hands in the air, 'all started this morning when she woke up.'  
  
'What's this?' Julia had sat down on the sofa and was absent-mindedly stroking the cat when her hand felt an object around its throat. She slipped it off over the cat's head; it was a bead bracelet. The little white dog also had one in place of a collar.  
  
'They were all wearing them,' Buffy said. 'We've all got them.' She held up her own wrist to show Julia the one she had on.  
  
The doorbell rang again and Buffy turned to answer it.  
  
'I asked Willow and Xander to stop by the animal hospital and pick up some cages so we can take . . . the animals . . . back with us.'  
  
Xander brought in two small pet carriers while Willow carried a large birdcage.  
  
'You'll never guess what we saw on the way over here!' Xander exclaimed. 'You know that guy Keith who hangs out with Cordy? His car was in a ditch over on North Street.'  
  
'Is he alright?' Julia asked.  
  
'This is the weird part . . . he wasn't in the car. When the police got there they found a pig behind the wheel!'  
  
Buffy looked solemnly at Julia.  
  
Xander was disappointed. 'Why doesn't anyone but me think that's funny?'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Julia had to make two trips to ferry kids and animals to the school library in her two-seater sports car. On the way over she called Giles on the cell- phone and told him to brings his keys to the maintenance entrance and meet her there.  
  
While Willow stayed at the library to keep an eye on Cordy-cat and friends, Buffy and Giles drove over to the animal impound to retrieve Keith, telling the animal control officer that kids from a rival school's football team had kidnapped Herbert, the Sunnydale team mascot.  
  
'Oh, by the way,' the officer said, reaching under the desk. 'This was around the pig's neck.' It was another of the bead bracelets.  
  
Meanwhile, Julia and Xander were checking on the other Cordettes.  
  
Aura's house was deserted with the back door swinging open. A half-grown black sheep grazed on the lawn. One of the bracelets was still twisted in its wool.  
  
According to a note on the refrigerator, her parents had left early for the golf club and wouldn't be back until after Aura left for Cordelia's party, following which she was expected to stay overnight at the Chase's. Hopefully, this meant they wouldn't discover their daughter missing until the next morning.  
  
Squeezing the sheep into the space behind the MG convertible's seats, Xander suggested they return to the school via Mitch's place.  
  
Mitch's Mom confirmed that he had not been home since leaving for the gym that morning. He intended going straight from there to Cordelia's to help put up the party decorations. She suggested they could catch up with him at the Chase's.  
  
'Well, we know he's not at Cordelia's,' Julia said to Xander once they were back in the car. 'Let's try the gym.'  
  
The attendant at the desk said he had just come on duty and had not seen Mitch that day. Julia told him that they needed to find Mitch urgently as his girlfriend had fallen ill, so he allowed Xander to go through to the men's locker rooms to check.  
  
Mitch was nowhere to be seen but Xander quickly located his gym bag. The rest of Mitch's clothes, and one of the bead bracelets, were lying on the floor of the change room. Gathering up the clothes, Xander went to put them back in the bag.  
  
'Shit!' Xander jumped back in fright as he parted the top of the gym bag to put the things inside. There was a boa constrictor curled up on top of Mitch's dirty tee shirt and underwear. Xander regained his composure sufficiently to reach over and zip it closed then hoisted the heavy bag up over his shoulder. Standing on one of the bench seats, he managed to open up a window and lower the bag out into the alley behind the gym, letting it drop the last couple of feet onto some trash below. He hurried back to the front desk.  
  
'Not here. Let's go!' Xander grabbed Julia by the arm and pulled her towards the exit.  
  
After recovering the gym bag, with Mitch the python inside, they headed back to the school library.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Although the five occupants of the library were speechless, the room was filled with unaccustomed noises. The sounds of snuffling, mewing, screeching and scratching came from the caged-off section where the supplies were usually kept. The Aphro-macaw was in a birdcage and the Mitch- python had been transferred to a sack that was tied off at the top; the other creatures wandered about within the confines of the storage area. Julia and the two girls sat at the table and Xander on the stairs as Giles paced back and forth in front of the former Cordettes.  
  
'Rupert, do sit down.' Julia said wearily. 'You're only disturbing the . . . ' She couldn't bring herself to call them 'animals'.  
  
Giles stopped pacing but did not take a seat, preferring to give his glasses another unnecessary cleaning.  
  
'I can't understand who would want to do such a thing!'  
  
'Ha!' Xander let out a whooping laugh. 'Who wouldn't!'  
  
Giles looked surprised at Xander's outburst.  
  
'What Xander is attempting, rather inelegantly, to convey,' Julia explained, 'is that Cordelia and her group were . . . are . . . not particularly well-liked around the school.'  
  
Buffy agreed. 'I'm with Xander; if we're looking for people who'd want to do something like this to Cordy and her friends we'd be better off listing the ones *without* a grudge. It'd be a shorter roll call.'  
  
Giles considered this for a moment. 'What we are really looking for is someone who might have a particular grievance, who wants revenge and, specifically, someone who has the capability of planning and carrying out a metaphysical retribution.'  
  
Willow, Buffy and Xander exchanged glances.  
  
Buffy sighed. 'I think we might know who that someone is.' She told Giles and Julia what had happened at the mall earlier that week and about the bracelets they had been given.  
  
'Well, I hate to admit it,' Giles said, 'but it seems that Cordelia and her friends may have been correct about this Mama Lucette's involvement with the dark arts. Not only does she have motive and opportunity, but the also means. One of those bracelets was found either on or with each of the victims. I suspect she used them as the method of delivering a metamorphosing spell.'  
  
Xander immediately tore his bracelet off with a shudder. Willow, on the other hand, had known Mrs Janvier since she moved to Sunnydale, and was reluctant to believe the old lady could be involved.  
  
'But we're all wearing them! Why aren't the rest of us affected?'  
  
'Willow's right. Half the school has them,' Buffy said, holding her wrist out for Giles to see. 'The bracelets are all exactly the same.'  
  
'Perhaps not.' Julia took a large magnifying glass from one of the shelves below the stairs. 'Willow, take yours off please.' Willow reluctantly handed her jewellery over to Julia to examine. 'In fact, I think you'd all better remove them until we know a little more about what's going on.'  
  
Holding the item under one of the desk lamps, Julia peered at the designs on the painted and carved beads. They looked like simple geometric patterns. Buffy and Xander's were the same.  
  
'Where's the one that was found on Cordelia?' Buffy handed Julia the bracelet she had removed from around the cat's neck, along with the other two she had brought back from the Chase's house. 'Hmm . . . the designs on these are slightly different.' She handed the pieces, along with the magnifier, to Willow while she retrieved another from the gym bag.  
  
Mitch's bracelet was also different from Buffy's, but the same as Cordelia's.  
  
'The painted bead designs on these two are more than just a repeated pattern,' Julia observed. 'They seem to be some sort of language or symbol. Probably magical.'  
  
'It's a ve-ve, the sign of Kalfou, the voodoo spirit who has the power to turn people into animals,' Willow interrupted, 'with a spell asking him to invoke the physical presence of the creature indicated by . . . ' She trailed off. Realising everyone's attention was focussed on her, Willow became suddenly shy.  
  
Xander asked the question on everybody's mind. 'How do you know that, Will?'  
  
'I've been doing some reading,' the little redhead replied in a small voice.  
  
'Willow,' Giles began in his lecturing mode, 'I thought we'd agreed . . .'  
  
'Giles,' Julia broke in, 'I think that discussion can wait until later. We have more pressing problems right now.'  
  
Willow had taken an interest in the mystical arts since the group's run-in with Amy Madison and Giles did not approve. Julia, however, saw it as a natural, if worrying, response to their involvement with the Hellmouth. She suspected the normally unassuming teen was attracted to the idea of having some kind of control over the chaotic forces surrounding her.  
  
Turning back to Willow, she asked, 'Were you about to say that animals they've been turned into had to be identified in some way as part of the spell?'  
  
'Yes,' Willow agreed. 'But I can't see symbols for them anywhere on the bracelets.'  
  
'I think I might know how it was done.' Julia ran a fingernail over the unfired white clay beads on Buffy's bracelet then did the same with those belonging to Cordy and the others, using the magnifying glass again for a closer look. 'The white beads on the 'cursed' bracelets are made of bone, not clay . . . different kinds of bones. But this one,' she held up Aphrodisia's, 'is definitely bird bone.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
When Buffy left the library to find Mama Lucette, Willow insisted on accompanying her. She was a little afraid of how Buffy might react once they found the old Haitian lady; they needed her to reverse the spell and the Slayer was not always the most tactful of people. Xander along went too, loathe to remain behind with the transformed Cordettes - they creeped him out!  
  
Mama Lucette was at home, sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of her little A-framed cottage, doing nothing but enjoying the late morning sun. It seemed almost as though she was expecting them. Buffy confronted her immediately about the voodoo spell. The old woman openly admitted it was her doing, leaving Buffy and the others momentarily at a loss for what to do next.  
  
Eventually, Willow spoke up. 'Mama Lucette, I think we all understand why you did it, but . . . well . . . you can't leave them like that!'  
  
The old lady smiled and rocked. 'Why not, little sister? Just think how much better the world would be without people like Cordelia and her friends.' The kids looked at each other but said nothing. 'Think how much nicer school would be.'  
  
'That's not the point!' Buffy snapped out of her reverie; it *was* an attractive picture after all. 'It's . . . it's just not . . . right!'  
  
'I thought you would be delighted to see them punished for the way they treat you and your friends. Why should you care if they remain as they are for the rest of their lives?'  
  
'Yeah, Buff,' Xander said, 'run that one by me again, will ya?'  
  
'Buffy's right, Xander,' Willow said. 'We can't choose to help only the people we like!'  
  
'Or who deserve it,' Buffy added.  
  
'Well, that's a fine sentiment, but I'm not so sure I can release them,' said Mama Lucette. 'It is not so easy to undo the workings of such powerful loa.'  
  
'You have to try!' Buffy was becoming frustrated.  
  
'And if I refuse? What are you going to do then, child? Beat it out of me?' Mama Lucette was unimpressed by Buffy's argument. 'I may be a Vodun Mambo, but I am still human, ma petit, not one of your vampires or demons.'  
  
'How . . . how did you know?' Buffy was startled by the old woman's knowledge of her secret.  
  
'I am tonton macoute,' Mama Lucette replied. 'I know many things that are hidden.'  
  
Willow tried the diplomatic approach. 'Please, Mama Lucette. If you really meant it when you said you were grateful for our help at the mall, then come back to the school with us and try.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Mama Lucette stood before the door of the wire cage, silently regarding the creatures within. The animals were calmer now, quietly returning the old woman's intense gaze. Perhaps they recognised her as the architect of their new selves.  
  
Lucette could not seem to make Buffy understand that restoring the Cordettes was not as straightforward as simply performing a reversing spell.  
  
'The rituals are not magic spells. Vodun doesn't work that way. We Mambo cannot command the loa.' She turned back to face the others. 'The loa serve those who serve them; they help those who honour them. To ask for a favour to be reversed would be an insult and many of the loa are very quick to anger.'  
  
'There has to be another way to approach this problem,' Gile suggested. 'Something other than reversing the original . . . request.'  
  
'There is one simple way I know of to restore them,' said Mama Lucette. 'But it requires a sacrifice.'  
  
'What kind of sacrifice?' Giles asked.  
  
'One of the animals would have to be sacrificed to allow the others to return to normal.'  
  
Xander's hand shot up. 'I vote we sacrifice the cat!'  
  
'No!' Buffy snapped, stepping forward to stand before the Mambo. 'No one's going to be sacrificed! There has to be another way.'  
  
'Well . . . perhaps.' Lucette looked from the animals back to Buffy. 'But it could be dangerous; there may be forces that want to stop you.'  
  
'We have to try,' Willow said.  
  
Julia reached out to place a hand on Willow's shoulder; the child was too quick to put her heart before her head. 'What, precisely, would this involve, Mrs Janvier?'  
  
'An appeal to the loa in person to ask them to change the children back.' Mama Lucette sounded a little uncertain. She turned back to Buffy. 'If you do exactly as they tell you and show the proper respect, they may grant your request.'  
  
'What do we have to do?' Buffy asked. All this discussion was frustrating; she needed to be doing something about it!  
  
Lucette gave Buffy a set of keys to the tea rooms. 'Everything you need you will find in the store room at the back.'  
  
'You aren't coming with us?' Willow asked. 'How will we know what to do when we get there?'  
  
'If the loa choose to allow you to contact them, they will reveal the way.'  
  
Buffy, Xander and Willow began heading for the door.  
  
'Oh, and by the way . . . ' Mama Lucette added. 'You have only six hours. After that, well, . . . ' She merely shrugged.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was a few minutes after midday when they entered the New Orleans Tea Room. The cinema complex was packed with teenagers and families and no one took much notice of the three as they opened up the green painted door and quickly stepped inside.  
  
The bustle and noise of the Saturday crowd dissolved into quiet darkness as they shut the door behind them. To the rear of the small café behind the counter was a swinging door with a circular window that led into the kitchen. They walked through, Xander turning on the lights as they went. At the end of the narrow walkway between the stainless steel benches was another door with a painted sign saying 'Storeroom'. This one was padlocked.  
  
Buffy took a few moments to locate the right key then removed the padlock and opened the door. Running her hand around the wall on either side of the door, she was unable to find a light switch inside the room but the glow coming in from the kitchen showed what looked like stacked crates and drums in an unexpectedly long, wide room.  
  
Leaving the storeroom door wide open, Buffy motioned for Willow and Xander to follow.  
  
* * * * * 


	3. Paths to Wisdom

Chapter Three: Paths to Wisdom  
  
Once through the door, they quickly realised the room was, in fact, not a storeroom at all but an alleyway between several large buildings. The crates and drums were trashcans and discarded packing boxes lining the street. City lights winked in the distance.  
  
'I guess we're not in Sunnydale any more!' Xander excelled at stating the painfully obvious.  
  
All three looked back at the door by which they had just entered. It was gone. In its place was a double door with a steel mesh security screen rolled down and bolted. Large, shuttered windows flanked either side and a bright blue neon sign with the words 'Blues Bayou Bar' flickered above it.  
  
Panicked, Buffy checked the luminous dial on her watch. The digital read- out showed 12.11. It was still only a little past noon.  
  
'So, what do we do now?' Xander asked no one in particular. 'Any ideas, Will?' But Willow was not listening; she was staring up at the stars and almost full moon in the clear night sky overhead.  
  
* * * * *  
  
All was quiet at first, eerily so. The scudding of blue-grey clouds across the sky above mirrored the litter of wind-blown papers on the streets below. Twenty minutes of fruitless wandering through deserted back alleys and laneways left Buffy frustrated and increasingly apprehensive. Vanquishing vampires and dodging demons she could handle but this pointless meandering made her jittery.  
  
As the group stepped out onto a wider thoroughfare they were astounded to find themselves suddenly in the midst of an extraordinary street party. The uncanny silence of just moments before was transformed into a whirlwind of sound, colour and activity.  
  
Cacophonous music heavily laden with brass and drums beat out a tempestuous rhythm against which a tide of fantastically costumed merrymakers ebbed and flowed. Voices were raised in cheerful laughter and song; colourful banners, beautifully embroidered and adorned with sequins, displayed designs similar to those on Mama Lucette's beaded bracelets.  
  
A black and white Pierrot juggling fiery batons stopped in front of the teenagers, lifting one baton to his mouth to breathe a spectacular jet of fire before rejoining the throng. A jovial jester in yellow and red waved his sceptre at them, the tiny jester's head on top, bearing a distorted image of his own face, nodding and grinning as he skipped away.  
  
Cabaret dancers in top hats and fishnet tights caught Xander's attention. That is, until a dozen bare-breasted showgirls in feathery sequined headdresses danced by. Cowboys, antebellum ladies and gentlemen, knights, film stars, heroes and villains all whirled past in front of the three astonished youngsters. Then, with a cry of 'laissez les bons temps rouler! ' [let the good times roll!], a rather large man dressed as Cleopatra reached out of the crowd and pulled Buffy into the milling mass.  
  
Fearing they would be left behind, Willow and Xander plunged in after her, the boisterous bubbling river of Mardi Gras revellers sweeping them up and carrying them along in its unruly flow.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Jostled and bounced around inside the lunatic swarm, Xander and Willow fought their way forward through the multitude until they caught up with Buffy. Afraid of becoming separated again, they clasped hands and began working their way towards the edge of the crowd, finally spilling out onto the sidewalk, literally, as the partying crowd rounded another corner.  
  
There they stood, with ears still ringing from the din, as the festival streamed past them leaving them stunned and exhausted in its wake.  
  
They did not at first notice a small dark figure leaning up against an old- fashioned gas lamp post across the road. It wasn't until the strange little man took a lit pipe from his mouth and began to laugh that they became aware of his presence.  
  
'I was beginning to think that you weren't going to make it!' he chuckled, his ancient smiling face wreathed in wrinkles as he tapped out the spent tobacco against the lamp post and pocketed the pipe.  
  
Small and gnarled but very spry, he bounded barefoot across the road towards them. A slight limp was only apparent when he slowed to a walking pace. His hair was a fine halo of white fuzz; his night-black skin shone like a polished nut. Dressed in dusty green coveralls and a tattered greatcoat of garish rose pink and red, he looked like a street person but spoke like a cultured gentleman.  
  
With slight inclination of his snowy head, he introduced himself. 'I am called Legba, the Guardian of the Way and Opener of the Gates . . . '  
  
'So how do we get out of here,' Buffy interrupted. 'The way we came in is blocked.'  
  
'Get out?' the old man grinned, feigning surprise. 'But you've only just arrived! Aren't you enjoying the festivities?' He spread his arms expansively. 'It was intended to amuse you, after all!'  
  
'We're not here for fun!' Buffy was becoming more and more agitated. They had wasted almost an hour already and were no closer to finding out what was required of them, let alone made any progress in returning Cordy and the others to their human state. 'We've come here to save our friends, not wander empty streets or join the Mardi Gras!'  
  
'Very well, then. Let's get on with it.' Legba seemed unruffled by Buffy's outburst. 'Please follow me.' He began striding down the once-more hushed street, indicating for them to follow him. 'Let us talk as we walk.'  
  
Sounds of merriment rose and fell in waves as their travels through the winding boulevards brought them closer to or took them further from the celebrations. As they passed by beautiful old homes, rich with lacy ironwork and surrounded by subtropical gardens, Legba explained what it was they had to do.  
  
'I am your guide while you are here,' he began, 'but it is the three loa who granted Maman Lucette's petition that you must approach to have the favour overturned.'  
  
'Mr Legba,' Willow asked. 'Where exactly is "here"?'  
  
'A fair question, Willow, ma petit souer. And, please,' the little man said kindly, 'do call me Papa Legba!' Willow smiled warmly in return. The old man had about him a sense of power that belied his frail and shabby exterior. 'This place,' he continued, 'exists only while you are here. Your intellect cannot perceive the true nature of the loa . . . so you see a place which you can understand and accept.'  
  
'So, we create what we see here?' Willow asked.  
  
'Not quite; it is the loa who govern what you experience.' Legba went on to describe what their contact with the other loa might involve. 'You are to make a journey during which each loa will come to you in turn. They may require you to make an offering or perform some task to gain their co- operation. You must obtain a token from each of the loa as proof of their agreement to reverse Maman Lucette's original request. But I warn you,' he added solemnly, 'do not anger the loa. The spirits exist to help and guide the living but they can be volatile and fickle. No matter what happens, be sure always to remain courteous and respectful!'  
  
'Papa Legba,' Buffy said, a little calmer now, and remembering Mama Lucette's warning about forces opposing them, 'will you be travelling with us?'  
  
'Mai, non, ma jeune meurtrier,' he replied, 'this is a path you three must travel alone.' Legba noticed their uncertain expressions. 'Never fear. I will be here when you return with the tokens to guide you back through the gateway.'  
  
The sound of revelry grew louder as they crossed a broad avenue into another residential faubourg, but it was not the high-spirited clamour of the happy carnival they had encountered previously. These voices had a darker quality, cries and angry words becoming distinguishable as the mob drew closer.  
  
The tinkle of glass breaking and the rattling clang of something solid being drawn along an iron fence railing made Buffy and the others pause, instinctively looking around for a safe place to take cover if necessary. The last thing they needed now was to get into a skirmish with the locals. They simply could not afford the delay.  
  
Buffy gestured silently to the group to follow her down a laneway that seemed to lead away from the commotion. Unfortunately, it was not so.  
  
Xander let out a startled 'Whoa!' as they ran straight into a band of gaudily dressed and made-up ruffians. 'Clowns!' he yelled, turning so quickly in his fright that he had to put his arms around Willow and spin her around to stop them both from toppling over.  
  
Everyone skidded to a halt, including the malevolent-looking clowns. Buffy was dismayed to see that each one had in his white-gloved hand a broken bottle-neck, baseball bat or carving knife. Slowly backing up the way they had come but not taking her eyes from the fractious funny-men, she said quietly, 'Run.' The others needed no encouragement. They bolted, with the clowns taking off after them a few seconds later.  
  
Papa Legba, remarkably fleet of foot for a man with a limp, sprinted ahead of Buffy and the others. The kids swerved past him when he stopped suddenly in front of an old two-storey cottage no different to a dozen similar houses on that street.  
  
'In here!' he called and, without waiting for their response, raced up a flight of narrow steps and in through the open front door. Willow, Xander and Buffy skidded to a halt then ran back to join Papa Legba.  
  
The clowns charged around the street corner just as Buffy slammed the door shut behind her. They milled around for a few moments then began a systematic search of each garden and house in the magnolia-lined avenue.  
  
'Quickly!' Papa Legba motioned the teenagers up a staircase at the rear of the house then followed them upstairs. He halted halfway along the hallway on the second floor. Reaching up to grasp a rope hanging from the ceiling, he tugged it, pulling down a set of wooden steps leading up to an attic.  
  
'Hurry!' he urged. The sounds of big floppy shoes on the stairs provided all the incentive they needed and the three teens piled up the stepladder ahead of Legba who drew it up behind him so that the rope was wedged hard between the steps and opening in the attic floor.  
  
Moonlight faintly illuminated the cluttered contents of the attic. Broken chairs with torn upholstery, wicker end-tables, trunks and dusty rolled up carpets littered the floor. Willow uttered a sharp cry of surprise when she bumped into an old tailor's dummy dressed in faded, drooping crinolines. The clowns could be heard a few feet below as they tried to get sufficient hold on the steps to pull them down again. Legba herded the children ahead of him until they reached the very end of the long attic.  
  
'There's nowhere left to go!' Buffy looked around for some king of weapon to use when the evil clowns broke through.  
  
Legba opened the door of a huge antique armoire.  
  
'Get inside!' he cried. 'You can hide in here!' Xander and Willow piled in but Buffy held back.  
  
'They'll find us in there!' she protested. 'I'll hold them off while you . . . oof!'  
  
Legba grabbed Buffy's arm and pushed her into the wardrobe with the others, slamming the door shut behind them. She pounded against the cobwebbed door- back, only to be startled when it swung open and Papa Legba stuck his ancient head inside.  
  
'Follow the path!' he cried, shutting the door again with a thump.  
  
'What path?' Buffy called through the closed door. She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked around in the gloom. A moonlit dirt road spread out ahead of them.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A short walk along the path brought them to the top of a low hill. From the crest they watched, fascinated, as the burning orange disc of the sun rose in high-speed time-lapse over a wide slow-moving river. Buffy checked her watch again, unsurprised this time to see it was still only a quarter to two in the afternoon.  
  
Continuing down the other side of the rise, they soon found themselves at a crossroad among the trees in a forested valley. There was no signage to indicate where to go from there.  
  
'OK, which way now?' Xander asked.  
  
'I don't know,' Buffy answered.  
  
'We could toss a coin!' Willow checked the pockets of her jeans and came up empty. 'If we had a coin.'  
  
'Maybe we should split up,' Buffy suggested. 'Each take a branch of the road and meet back here after . . . ' A strange sound caught her attention, a kind of 'clicking' noise, but not a natural sound like a bird or an insect, although there were plenty of those as well. It seemed to come from the path leading off to the right. Buffy nodded to her companions and headed in that direction.  
  
Less than a dozen yards down the dirt track, the road curved away into the forest. As they rounded the first bend the teenagers discovered the origin of the curious sound.  
  
Under a huge tupelo gum, with his long legs crossed in front of him and his back against the tall trunk, stood a man dressed from head to foot in black. He was flipping cards from the deck he held into his upturned hat a few feet away.  
  
Catching sight of the approaching group he bent to scoop up his hat, removing the cards and tucking the deck into a pocket inside his long frockcoat. He picked up an ebony walking stick topped with a silver wolf's head and began walking towards them, flicking the dust off the silk-lined top-hat with a black velvet-gloved hand. The only things about him that were not black were a small diamond crescent moon he wore pinned to his cravat and his startling deep blue eyes.  
  
Sweeping his hat before him in an exaggerated courtly bow, he introduced himself, in deep and resonant tones, to the three young travellers.  
  
'I am Master Carrefour,' he intoned. 'Lord of the Crossroads, Lord of Demons, Lord of Destruction, Lord of . . . ' he stopped reciting his numerous titles and flashed them a huge grin. 'Well, Lord of lots of things, really!' Carrefour put his hat back on, giving the brim a tap with the walking stick to knock it up into a rakish angle. 'I assume you are the krewe who are seeking to undo a task recently undertaken for Maman Lucette?'  
  
'Yes, sir,' Buffy was careful to be deferential this time around. Carrefour was an imposing individual, broad and muscular, his six and a half foot frame towering over Buffy and the others. 'We'd like to have our . . . friends . . . returned to human form . . . please.'  
  
'Hmm . . . ' he murmured noncommittally, stroking his small goatee beard. 'You must be hungry and thirsty by now. Come with me.' He began striding off along the track, assuming they would follow.  
  
Buffy turned to Xander and Willow and shrugged, then, with a deep sigh, began to trudge after Carrefour's departing figure.  
  
* * * * *  
  
A brief walk down a steeper incline led them to the bank of the river they had seen from the hill crest a short time ago. Beached on the muddy banks, its huge stern wheel half buried in the sediment, was a huge derelict riverboat - a paddle wheeler from a century ago.  
  
The four of them walked along the three hundred foot length of the stranded giant. At least four stories of staterooms, luxury suites and pubic galleries, in various stages of deterioration, loomed over them as they passed. 'Le Grand Bokor' was painted in peeling gold script at the bow.  
  
'A shade of her former glory, I'm afraid,' said Carrefour as they mounted the stage, a broad gangway leading up to the entrance to the main promenade deck. 'When first she cruised these waters, she could turn on a dime and give you nine cents change.' He shook his head sadly. 'It's the way of all things, I suppose, to run down and decay.' Carrefour's grin returned. 'Then again, if not for that, we loa would have little to do!'  
  
Once on board it was apparent that the paddle wheeler was stranded slightly off-balance with the decks slanting a little towards the water.  
  
A grand staircase, wide enough for all four of them to walk up side by side, led into a long gallery that ran the length of the vessel. Elaborate filigree woodwork lined the cherry-wood walls and ceiling. Ornate chandeliers hung every few yards, albeit at a disconcerting angle due to the pitch of the floor.  
  
Everything had an air of faded opulence; the once luxurious red carpet was worn through to the floorboards in places, furniture was covered with tattered silks and velvets, odd lights were missing from the fixtures.  
  
Even the passengers crowding the galleries and promenade decks looked like they had seen better days. For some, those days must have been long ago! Women and men wore costumes dating through the last two centuries, from doll-like crinolined Southern belles to Jazz-era flappers, from Rhett Butlers to Great Gatsbys, many looking like their clothes had been in constant wear since that time.  
  
Carrefour led the group to a richly appointed room on the river side of the main gallery, a private saloon set up as a casino. It was packed with memorabilia of days gone by; weapons, sepia toned photographs, various bits and pieces from riverboat life adorned walls and sideboards. A five-piece orchestra, strings and woodwind, played quietly in one corner.  
  
The floor had been rebuilt on a level plane that left it at an angle to the tilted walls and ceiling, giving the entire room a weirdly surreal feeling.  
  
Groups of riverboat gamblers sat at various tables playing cards and dominoes or stood around the roulette wheel and craps table. Others merely lounged on the cracked leather sofas, smoking cigars and cradling tumblers of whisky. Waiters and hostesses, also in period dress, wandered amongst the patrons with drinks and flirtatious conversation.  
  
As the kids and their host entered, a beautiful young woman came forward to greet them. Carrefour took her small hand in his and bowed slightly before introducing her to the others.  
  
'May I present Le Grand Bokor's Mistress of Ceremonies and its finest ornament, the incomparable Mademoiselle Erzulie.'  
  
Erzulie was, indeed, a vision; an exotic light-skinned girl of mixed race dressed in a flame red silk gown with long trailing skirts and a satin bodice so tight that it seemed to present her full bosom like two luscious fruits on a tray. Her jet black hair, worn long and loose, was held back behind one ear by a cluster of tiny blue violets. Her only jewellery was a circular sapphire brooch in the form of a coiled serpent and a matching bracelet.  
  
Willow and Buffy each shook her hand and introduced themselves. Xander, however, stood dumbstruck. He had never seen a girl so strikingly lovely. Willow dug her elbow into his ribs, twice, before he regained sufficient wit to respond. Well . . . almost.  
  
'Hi,' he managed, breathily, 'I'm Alex . . . I mean, I'm Xander. Pleased to meet me.' He groaned with embarrassment. 'I mean you! Pleased to meet *you*!'  
  
Erzulie lowered her sea-green eyes and giggled, biting her lower lip coquettishly, as though Xander was the wittiest man in the room. She still held Xander's hand in hers.  
  
Willow shot Xander a look of unconcealed irritation. Why did he always get so goofy in front of pretty girls? She pouted, wishing she could affect him like that . . . just once!  
  
Slipping her arm through his, Erzulie whispered something in Xander's ear, then they walked over to the roulette wheel to watch the game together.  
  
'Okay,' Buffy said slowly, seeing Carrefour's ready smile had also disappeared, 'this is all very . . . hospitable . . . of you, but we *are* a bit pressed for time.'  
  
'Well, now,' Carrefour continued to watch the younger couple by the gaming table; Erzulie was laughing girlishly and murmuring sweet nothings to Xander in French. The boy couldn't take his eyes off her. 'I assume you'll be wanting some small souvenir of your visit here to take back to that old reprobate, Legba.' Carrefour turned to face Buffy. 'I believe I have just the thing.' He unbuttoned his frockcoat and reached into the watch-pocket of his black brocade waistcoat, withdrawing a tiny red cloth bag tied at the top with a leather thong.  
  
'This is called a gris-gris,' he said. 'It is a form of good luck charm. This one contains herbs and other . . . remains . . . consecrated to me. Legba will recognise it.'  
  
Buffy put a hand out to take the token but Carrefour held it out of her reach.  
  
'Not so fast, little lady. Don't you know that nothing is free in this life? Not even luck?' Carrefour's blue eyes had darkened to a deep indigo, responding to his change of mood. 'Perhaps a game of chance would be appropriate.' He glanced around the room. 'Hmm, what shall we play?'  
  
Carrefour began to stroll around the mini-casino. Buffy and Willow followed. Stopping at one of the tables he turned to the girls and said, 'Craps?' He shook his head. 'No. Not really a suitable diversion for young ladies.' He moved on.  
  
Two men in nineteenth century plantation-style white linen suits paused in their game as Carrefour stood beside them, hands clasped behind his back as he perused the lines of dominoes. He raised his thick eyebrows and indicated the game to the girls.  
  
'Ooh, dominoes!' Willow exclaimed. 'I'm really great at dominoes!'  
  
Carrefour smiled for the first time since Erzulie wandered off with Xander.  
  
'Something a little more . . . challenging, I think.' He walked towards the roulette table and placed a large black hand heavily on Xander's shoulder. 'Well, boy,' he asked as Xander looked up in surprise, 'do you know how to play poker?'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Xander sat at the small card table staring across its green baize top at Carrefour as he shuffled a brand new deck of cards. They were just about the only things in the room that weren't frayed. He was still in shock at the thought of playing against the loa for the gris-gris bag. How did the responsibility for the success of their mission suddenly land on him?  
  
'You know,' Xander said, leaning forward to catch the loa's attention, 'I don't have anything to bet with.'  
  
Carrefour considered this for a moment, then spoke.  
  
'Seeing how this is just a game between friends,' he said, sounding anything *but* friendly, 'the House will supply the kitty.' He laid the deck on the table and snapped his fingers. A steward, glassy-eyed and grey skinned, shuffled forward and placed a pile of poker chips in front of each of them.  
  
Xander picked one up. It had white a skull and crossbones inlaid in ivory on the ebony wood disc. The other side showed a quarter moon. Or perhaps it was a 'C' for Carrefour.  
  
Another of the strangely silent waiters brought a tray of icy cold drinks, offering them first to Willow and Buffy who were seated nearby on a shabby velvet love seat. They each took a tall glass of tart lemonade with a slice of lime. Erzulie selected a mint julep, adding several cubes of sugar to it from a silver bowl on the tray. The waiter placed the remaining drinks, two iced teas with lemon, in front of Xander and the loa.  
  
'So,' Carrefour said. 'Let's begin.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
For over an hour hand after hand was played with Carrefour winning most of them. Xander had lost the last seven hands and his cache of chips had grown steadily smaller.  
  
Erzulie constantly paced around the table behind Xander as they played, looking worried, which caused some concern for Buffy and Willow. Perhaps the game wasn't so 'friendly' after all. What would happen if, or more likely when, Xander ran out of gambling chips?  
  
Carrefour stroked his tiny beard again, considering his cards, then threw out two. Xander discarded three. He was down to his last four chips; the last bet had been for three. He had also begun to suspect that his host was palming the occasional card and dealing from the bottom of the deck, but why, or what he could do about it, he didn't know. He certainly did not intend to accuse the huge loa of cheating!  
  
'Dealer takes two,' Carrefour said, after flipping three cards to Xander. 'I'll see your three and raise you . . . ' smiling thinly, he threw several chips into the kitty, 'another three.'  
  
Xander didn't bother looking at his final hand but tossed the cards into the centre of the table.  
  
'Well, I'm out,' he said wearily.  
  
'Now, now,' Carrefour reached over and grabbed Xander's forearm. 'What about your friends back in Sunnydale? Surely you don't intend to leave them as they are?'  
  
Xander looked over at the girls. Willow's expression was pale and anxious but she could only shrug in response. Buffy, however, looked about ready to explode.  
  
'How about one more hand,' Carrefour continued, taking out the gris-gris bag and tossing it onto the large pile of chips, 'for everything in the pot?'  
  
'I don't have anything left to wager with.'  
  
'Surely, you have . . . something of value?' the loa suggested.  
  
Xander had seen enough horror films to guess where this was going.  
  
'You want me to play for my soul, right?' Xander leapt up from his chair. 'No way! Cordelia might as well get used to wearing a bell around her neck and snacking on mouse giblets 'cause I'm . . . ' Xander stopped in mid-rant when he realised Carrefour was doubled over with laughter. Everyone else in hearing distance, including Erzulie, was shaking with merriment. 'What? What did I say . . .'  
  
The giant black man wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.  
  
'Oh, my dear boy!' he chuckled. 'We don't do that here!' Carrefour continued to chuckle until the laughter subsided into breathy gasps, then he sighed. 'How about playing for that?' He pointed to Xander's wrist.  
  
'This?' Xander held up his hand. He was wearing his yellow and blue tweety bird watch. 'Really?' He couldn't believe Carrefour would play him for that!  
  
Erzulie stepped forward, quickly whispered encouragement to Xander and stepped back again, biting her lower lip. Carrefour gave her a baleful look then returned his gaze to his young opponent.  
  
'Well?'  
  
Xander undid the watch-strap and placed the cheap bauble in the kitty alongside the red gris-gris bag.  
  
'OK,' he said, taking a deep breath. 'Let's do it.'  
  
The loa shuffled the deck once more and allocated them five cards each. Erzulie moved to stand with her hands on Xander's shoulders as he looked what he was dealt. He turned the cards over, flipping them up into to hand as he went - queen of spades, two of clubs, queen of clubs, five of diamonds, jack of diamonds - one pair.  
  
Carrefour sat back in his chair, grinning, as he discarded a single card. Xander kept his two queens and threw in the other three. Carrefour's grin widened as he picked up the deck once more to deal the replacement cards.  
  
'Three for you, then?' he asked. Xander nodded. His mouth felt like he'd swallowed a wad of cotton. He didn't trust himself to speak, thinking about what would happen if he lost this last hand. He was not worried about Cordy and the others so much as by what Buffy might do here and now if the loa refused to hand over the token they needed to take back to Legba. Riverboat fights were best left to bad old movie westerns, not something to be experienced in real life! He couldn't bring himself to even look at his cards.  
  
After dealing himself one card, Carrefour began placing his cards face up on the table one at a time - revealing a nine of hearts, nine of spades, ace of spades and ace of hearts.  
  
*Two pairs*! Xander thought. *Maybe I still have a chance*!  
  
For several long moments Carrefour held the final card in his hand. With a low chuckle, he placed it on the green baize. Nine of diamonds. He had a full house.  
  
Xander was crushed. No way could he beat that! His best hand so far had been three tens. His heartbeat pounded in his ears; his stomach felt like it was trying to crawl up into his throat. He gulped and started to lay out his hand too. Buffy and Willow rose to stand at his side; Erzulie was still behind him. Most of the gamblers and bar-girls in the room had also stopped to observe the outcome.  
  
Slowly, Xander turned his cards over - queen of clubs, queen of spades, seven of diamonds, seven of clubs. Two pairs. He closed his eyes . . . he could hear the girls behind him simultaneously take a deep breath and hold it . . . and flipped over his last card . . . right onto the floor!  
  
The four of them dived for the card as one, Willow and Buffy backing off quickly as the loa leapt to his feet with a growl.  
  
'Stand back!' he yelled. 'Don't touch that card!'  
  
Erzulie was already on her knees with one hand on the seat of Xander's chair and the over the card on the floor. She rose slowly, placing her hand on Xander's thigh as she did so. He moved his hand to cover hers, and as she removed it he felt the smoothness of the card under his palm. Erzulie turned and walked several steps back towards the brocade couch, where she leisurely took a seat, glaring defiantely at Carrefour.  
  
The big man settled back into his own chair and motioned for Xander to reveal his last card.  
  
All was silent again as the last card came up. Xander slapped the card down on the table, spreading his fingers to expose the face of the card . . . the queen of hearts! Xander had full house too! His three queens beat Carrefour's nines. He'd won!  
  
Willow squealed in delight. Buffy, all smiles now, started forward to congratulate Xander, his face pale, the relief evident in his disbelieving but exultant expression.  
  
'*That is not the card you were dealt!*' Carrefour's face turned an exceptional shade of purple as he roared out his anger. Reaching into his coat he whipped out a flick-knife and, before anyone had time to react, slammed it down between Xanders fingers still fanned out over the winning card. Xander jerked his hand away as the loa pulled the knife out of the tabletop with the queen of hearts impaled in the blade. '*Erzulie, you faithless bitch!*' Carrefour stood up quickly, overturning the table, cards, chips and all.  
  
But the coloured girl was already up off the sofa and screaming as she ran for the door. Carrefour pursued her as far as the exit then stopped and turned back to face the teenagers.  
  
'*No one beats Carrefour, the Lord of Destruction, in his own gaming house*!' From an open display case above the doorway he snatched a pair of old fashioned duelling pistols and began firing in the direction of the three kids.  
  
'*Go! Go!*' Buffy cried, prompting the stunned Xander to action. She grabbed Willow by the sleeve and started running for the French windows leading to the promenade deck outside. Carrefour was close behind.  
  
Faces peered at them out of the other galleries as they raced along the slanted deck towards the huge paddle wheel at the stern of the boat. The angry loa was hard on their heels, still shouting abuse, reloading and firing the pistols on the run.  
  
Crowding together at the end of the boat, Buffy and the others realised there was nowhere else to go. A quick glance over the side showed the river, sluggish and dark, just a few feet below. Buffy began to scramble over the railing.  
  
'Come on!' she urged. 'Hurry!' With only a moment's further hesitation the three jumped overboard into the chilly water and started swimming for the opposite bank.  
  
Carrefour reached the stern seconds later but did not attempt to follow or, thankfully, try shooting at them from there. He looked up sharply as Erzulie called to the departing figures from the Texas deck at the very top of the boat.  
  
'Head for the bridge!' she called, pointing upriver. 'Then follow on the path!'  
  
* * * * *  
  
Reaching the other side of the wide river, they dragged themselves, wet and covered in mud, onto the slimy bank. Tiny crabs scuttled away as they slid and scrambled up onto firmer ground.  
  
'Well this is just great!' Buffy said sarcastically, trying to wring as much water as she could out of the edges of her clothes. 'No chance we can get back to the crossroads that way, no token for Legba and no idea where to go next!'  
  
Xander looked crestfallen. 'Is there any point even going on then?' he wondered out loud. 'Without all three tokens how are we going to reverse the spell on Cordelia and Co?'  
  
'Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem!' Willow had her head down, twisting her long red hair to get the water out. She flicked it back over her shoulders and said with a smile, 'Xander, Buffy, hold out your hands.' Giving each other a puzzled look, they did so.  
  
Willow reached into the back pocket of her jeans and placed a small, sopping object in Buffy's outstretched hands. It was the little gris-gris bag! The cloth was soaked but the contents were still intact. Buffy was dumbfounded.  
  
Into Xander's cupped hands, Willow placed another small article, giving his hand a little squeeze as she did so.  
  
'Will!' he gasped. 'My watch!'  
  
In the melee, Willow had snatched up both the bag and the watch from the litter of cards and poker chips spilled from the overturned gaming table. Incredibly, the cheap little timepiece was still working; the digital read- out said 14.56. It was still early afternoon.  
  
The teenagers' delight was quickly dampened by the deafening noise of the great steam whistle mounted on the stern of 'Le Grand Bokor'. A huge cloud of white steam billowed out over the river as the sound of the throaty whistle bounced across the water and off the hills beyond.  
  
Their ears rang as they set off to follow the course of the river upstream towards the bridge.  
  
* * * * *  
  
They found the little wooden bridge about a mile further on. Instead of crossing back to the other side of the river they turned inland in the direction they had originally taken before running afoul of Carrefour. A dirt track led from the bridge straight into a swamp. In minutes the river was hidden from view by a thick screen of steaming vegetation. In the humidity, everything felt warm and wet; the heavy air seemed to amplify each tiny sound. Birds flew shrieking out of the cypress tops as they passed by.  
  
The three tramped on in the oppressive heat and damp, losing the path from time to time as the increasingly soggy ground submerged it for longer and longer stretches. Quite soon they were wading through water ankle deep. Eventually the path petered out altogether.  
  
After a few minutes of unproductive searching Buffy decided to scale one of the larger trees to get a better view of the surrounding landscape. She chose the tallest of the vine-covered giants and began to climb. Up above the main canopy Buffy could see breaks in the treetops and could just make out the brownish ribbon of the river they had left behind. A larger open area far off to their left was probably a clearing or, more likely, a mass of deeper water. About a half mile away in the other direction a thin tendril of smoke threaded up through the greenery.  
  
'I can see a winding break in the trees about 30 yards away!' she called down to the others. 'It's either a path or a stream, I think. Looks like there might be a hut or campfire nearby.' Buffy began to make her way back down the tree.  
  
Halfway down the slippery trunk Buffy lost her footing. She slid several metres along the slight incline of the bole before coming to rest in the crotch of a huge mossy limb, her foot wedged in a rotting pit between the trunk and branch, her heart pounding.  
  
'Be careful!' Willow called up to her, a little too late. Buffy looked down to see both of her friends' pale faces staring up at her with concern.  
  
'Are you OK?' Xander started climbing up the tangle of roots at the base of the old cypress.  
  
'I'm OK! Stay there!' Buffy was shaken but not hurt. No point in having Xander risk his neck too. Her lower leg was firmly jammed in the tree hollow about twenty feet from the ground. She tugged at the mass of vines, old bark and leaf litter but pulling at the vines only made them grip her leg tighter. 'Xander,' she called, 'do you still have your pocket knife with you?'  
  
Xander fished around in his jacket pockets and produced a small World War II army knife.  
  
'Here it is!' He tossed it up to Buffy who started to slice away at the vines that were holding her. But it was no use. The blade was pitted and dull and the woody plant stalks sodden and rubbery. This was going to take forever! In frustration, Buffy yanked hard at the constricting stems but this only succeeded in binding her even more firmly. It was starting to hurt. She leaned back against the tree and sat quietly for a moment.  
  
'Buffy?' Xander yelled anxiously from the base of the tree.  
  
'What time is it?' Buffy called back.  
  
What?'  
  
'How long have we got?'  
  
Xander looked at the tweety watch. It now read 15.32. 'We've got about two and a half hours.'  
  
'Then you'll have to go on alone. Both of you.'  
  
'No!' Willow protested. 'We can't just leave you here!'  
  
'There isn't time!'  
  
'Will's right,' Xander added. 'We don't even know which way to go.'  
  
'Off to the right,' Buffy insisted. 'Follow the break in the trees until you find what's causing the smoke. I'll come after you when I get this mess untangled.' Willow and Xander looked at each other miserably.  
  
'What if we lose you?' Xander asked. 'How will we find each other again?'  
  
'If I don't see you along the trail I'll meet you back at the bridge.' Willow and Xander didn't reply. 'Here! Catch this!' Buffy tossed the gris- gris bag down to Willow who tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans. 'Take it with you . . . just in case.'  
  
As the unhappy pair set off towards the opening in the forest, Buffy resumed hacking away at the tough green vines.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Xander and Willow waded through calf-deep water. The cypresses on either side of the creek were so close together that travelling through them was almost impossible without constantly weaving in and out of the trees. Walking in the slow moving stream itself was easier and faster.  
  
'Wa'wassat!' Willow spun around as something rustled in the deep reeds nearby.  
  
'Whooo . . . ooo,' came the reply from a stand of tall moss-covered bald cypresses to their left. Willow froze.  
  
'It's just an old owl, Will,' Xander said, putting his arm around Willow's trembling shoulders. 'This place is full of 'em.' He felt her start to relax. 'Along with snakes, spiders, alligators . . .' Xander sniggered as Willow squealed and pushed him away then chased after him and began punching him in the arm.  
  
Suddenly, Willow shrieks of indignation turned to cries of real fear.  
  
'Something nibbled me!' she screamed, kicking up tepid water as she splashed noisily through the shallows towards the firmer edges of the brackish creek.  
  
'Willow!' Xander called after her. 'Don't run off!' He waded after his best friend, ashamed now and thoroughly soaked, squelching along as quickly as he could. Just a few metres into the trees, he knew, could easily get them lost. Or worse . . . separated.  
  
When he caught up with her, Willow was standing quietly in a relatively dry area, a raised hump of tussocky ground surrounded by enormous prehistoric- looking trees. Their gnarled roots, sheltering tiny insect-eating sundews and pitcher plants, seemed to reach up out of the swamp, grasping for a foothold on the little island of marsh grasses and ferns. Golden-green light filtered down, dappling the little grove and lending deeper colours to the tree orchids, scarlet cypress vines and purple irises that had established themselves there. Massive curtains of Spanish moss added an eerie splendour to the scene.  
  
'It's like being inside an ancient temple!' Willow was awestruck by the primeval beauty of the place. Everything her eyes fell upon was alive and growing, surrounding and suffusing her with life. She almost felt like the trees were breathing around her - deep, long, slow breaths, each taking centuries to complete.  
  
Xander followed Willow's rapt gaze up into the high canopy. It was like staring up through the open spires of the tallest chapel on earth, the dizzying perspective making them feel that the earth was spinning under their feet.  
  
It took them several moments to realise that the tuneless humming they could hear was not a part of the almost mystical experience. It was, in fact, coming from a rickety old jetty on the other side of the grove.  
  
* * * * *  
  
'Se nan bwa, fey nan bwa ye,  
  
Se nan bwa, fey nan bwa ye,  
  
Se mwen menm Gran Bwa,  
  
M pap montre moun kay mwen,  
  
Si m pral montre moun kay mwen,  
  
Yap di se nan bwa m rete.'  
  
[It's in the woods, the leaves are,  
  
It's in the woods, the leaves are,  
  
It is I Gran Boa,  
  
I won't show people my house,  
  
If I go and show people my house,  
  
They will know I live in the woods.]  
  
The old man sang his strange song as he fished off a tree limb overhanging the sluggish river. Strung up next to him was a haul of several huge catfish. A Catahoula leopard dog drowsed beside him, a milky blue eye regarding the strangers sleepily from under one raised eyebrow.  
  
'Oh-ho! Petro!' The old man gave the dog a resounding slap on the haunch that caused it to open the other eye and lurch to its feet with a grunt. 'Our visitors have arrived!'  
  
Xander and Willow watched as the old Creole man gathered up the fish, rod and creel and nimbly scampered along the low branch back to solid ground. Or what passed for solid ground here in the waterlogged bayou.  
  
'Well, well, well!' He greeted the two teenagers as if he knew them. 'At last! Here, take these,' he said, handing the battered old bamboo rod to Xander and the wicker creel to Willow to carry. The string of catfish he flung over his shoulder, mucky fish-water dripping down the back of the oilskin coat, torn and stiff with age, that he wore over his only other article of clothing, a pair of equally decrepit khaki shorts.  
  
'Sir!' Willow called after him. 'Are you the loa we're supposed to see about helping our friends?' She hoped so; he certainly seemed a lot jollier than the last one! Still, Carrefour had seemed pleasant enough at first, too.  
  
'Surely, surely!' he called back without turning around. 'Come on, now, hurry along.' He waved a thin arm over his head. 'It will be dark again soon.' The prospect of being in the bayou after dark was all the stimulus they needed. No longer surprised at being recognized by everyone they met in this weird twilight-zone-world, Willow and Xander obediently trotted along behind the old man and his dog as they led the way towards his shack in the swamp.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The old man's home was a rough-hewn little hut perched precariously out over the water. The undressed boards of the walls had warped and shifted in the humidity and large gaps showed in between. Access to the hut was over an unsteady-looking jetty that spanned the sixty feet from hut to shore. It creaked and swayed alarmingly as they crossed over it to the sagging porch. Once across, the old dog Petro flopped down with a groan onto a threadbare blanket in one corner and immediately began to snore.  
  
'I am known as Gran Bois,' the old man said once they were seated around a small table inside the cabin. The interior was so dark that the loa lit the hurricane lamp hanging from a chain above the table. A blaze in the small stone fireplace just inside the front door was the source of the smoke Buffy had seen from the treetop. 'You are very late,' Bois remarked, peering at them intently. 'And I expected three of you.'  
  
Willow explained why they had had to leave Buffy behind. The old man grunted, clearly not pleased by this turn of events.  
  
'It's very dangerous out here in the bayou. You should not have split up.'  
  
'We didn't really have much choice,' Xander pointed out. 'Like you said, time is getting short.'  
  
'It can't be helped now, I suppose,' Bois grumbled. He took a small stoneware jug from a shelf by the only window, offering the teens a drink. 'It's very good,' he assured them. 'I make it myself.' Willow and Xander both declined; they could smell the woody tang of the moonshine from several feet away. The loa upended the jug and took a hefty swig, smacking his lips loudly. 'Ahh, nectar of the gods!' he grinned.  
  
'Mr Bois, we really appreciate your hospitality,' Willow ventured, 'and we don't mean to be rude, but our friends are waiting for us and we have to get back to Buffy and then we have to find the last loa and get another token and . . . '  
  
'Of course, of course!' Gran Bois put down the jug and began rummaging around in an old seaman's trunk, tossing out empty tin cans, broken kitchen utensils and bits of wood. 'I mustn't keep you!' He turned to them again and smiled a big gap-toothed grin. 'I don't get many people dropping by, you know!'  
  
After further rummaging and much mumbling of 'I know it's in here somewhere!', 'oh, that's where I put that!' and 'if only I'd remembered where this was last Thursday!' Bois finally produced an item that would serve as Legba's token.  
  
'Here, boy,' he said to Xander as he gave him the object. 'This should do the trick!' It was the dried up head of a small alligator, its open-mouthed smile filled with dozens of tiny sharp teeth. Its lower jaw wasn't much longer than Xander's hand.  
  
'It is a ju-ju,' Bois explained. 'Very powerful against evil things.' He looked thoughtful for a moment. In the quiet the two youngsters thought they heard, or rather felt, a deep, low thrumming sound. Bois became suddenly agitated. 'Turbo!' he cried. 'You must go! Quickly! Now!' He hustled them towards the doorway.  
  
Outside, the ancient spotted dog barked excitedly, his stiff old legs trembling as he scrambled up and down the narrow jetty, his pale blue eyes fixed on the far shore. As Bois pushed the children out onto the porch there was a mighty flurry of water about thirty yards up-river as something pale and huge slid into the creek. Whatever it was began moving through the water towards the little shack, heaving up a bow-wave in front of it like a submarine just below the surface.  
  
Before they could set foot on the jetty the creature struck the little cabin, shaking shingles from the roof and knocking everyone to the floor. Petro was pitched into the water by the impact. The dog scrambled frantically to haul himself back onto the porch as a massive white shape cruised below the hut then turned back for another pass at the ramshackle building.  
  
'*What the hell was that*!' yelled Xander as he helped Willow to her feet. She clutched tightly onto his arm, speechless with terror.  
  
'That's Turbo,' said Bois, 'the ancient Guardian of the Bayou. He senses you do not belong here. You must leave now. Across the boardwalk. Quickly, before he comes back!'  
  
But the huge albino alligator was already surging towards the jetty. Both kids regarded the unstable structure fearfully, not wanting to risk being on it when the monstrous reptile struck but unwilling to remain where they were. The old hut looked about ready to collapse into the water. It could not withstand another battering like the first.  
  
'Come on, Will!' shouted Xander. 'Run!' Not waiting for her response he started out across the boards, dragging the whimpering redhead along behind.  
  
The jetty shuddered violently as the alligator rammed the spot where they had stood two seconds before, shearing the porch-end clean away. Posts collapsed and slats tumbled into the bayou like dominoes as the thirty-foot long beast turned and ploughed its way towards them directly through the length of the boardwalk. Willow screamed over the sound of snapping wood, the loa's cries of encouragement and the roar of the angry saurian.  
  
The few seconds it took them to reach the shore were the longest of their lives. They stood on the high bank, shaking from adrenalin overload as the pallid shape of the giant alligator swam up to the river's edge then circled back and disappeared into the indigo waters.  
  
Then Xander realised he had left the ju-ju behind. It had fallen from his grasp when Turbo hit the shack the first time. Gran Boa waved at them from across the wreckage of the jetty, holding up the baby gator head.  
  
'Ahoy!' he called unnecessarily. 'Catch!' With that, the old man tossed the object in a high arc out across the water.  
  
Xander leaned out to catch it, almost overbalancing into the river. Willow grabbed the back of his jacket and they both started to slide towards the mossy edge. With a mighty bellow, Turbo launched itself up out of the water, its vast form filling Xander's field of vision with the terrifying apparition of a gaping yellow maw full of teeth like turrets atop a tower of ivory-white scales. The albino's mottled jaw snapped shut with a crack like a lightning-struck branch, barely missing the boy's hand as it closed around the ju-ju. Xander clutched the token to his chest as he fell backwards on top of Willow . . . and blessedly solid ground.  
  
Both of them crawled forward to stare over the bank in time to see the ghostly image of Turbo as it sank back under the water with a bubbling groan, its tail ridges creating a V-shaped wake as it returned to deeper, quieter waters.  
  
'Well done!' called Bois across the murky stream. 'Now you must return to the crossroads! Take the right-hand path!' Then added as an afterthought. 'Good luck!'  
  
* * * * *  
  
'Return to the crossroads'. That was easier said than done. Although it was only mid-afternoon, the light was fast fading to a brownish twilight and Willow and Xander could not find their way back to the place where they had left Buffy. They decided to follow the creek downstream to the main branch of the river then back to the bridge, hoping Buffy had freed herself and was waiting for them there.  
  
Buffy, in fact, was still lashed to the tree. No matter how many of the thin vines she managed to cut through with the rusty blade, there were yet enough of them to keep her securely bound.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Elegant snowy egrets and pretty water hyacinths did nothing to comfort Willow and Xander in their passage through the boggy landscape. Xander's earlier talk of swamp creatures had spooked them both, especially now that the light was almost gone. Tales of water moccasins, snapping turtles and quicksand, along with the knowledge that they had a scant two hours left to get back to Sunnydale, had both of them picking their way as quickly as possible along the sloping creek bank. Although the waterway meandered erratically, neither of them was game to venture back into the trees for fear of losing their way when the darkness was complete.  
  
Xander was walking at arm's distance behind Willow, watching the uneven ground just ahead of him when the girl stoped dead in her tracks.  
  
'What's up, Will?' Xander stepped around her, putting a hand on Willow's arm as he turned to face her. 'What's wrong?'  
  
Willow just stood there, looking into the distance, open-mouthed, pale and panting, making odd little strangled-sounding noises.  
  
'Will? Say something!' Xander, fearing she may have been bitten by a snake, took her by both shoulders and gave her a little shake. 'What is it, Will? Come on, you're scaring me now!'  
  
With a visible effort, Willow finally managed to get out the word 'F-f-f- frog!'  
  
Xander stepped backwards and looked around the spongy ground where they were standing.  
  
'Frogs? Where? I don't see any frogs, Will.'  
  
'N-not frogs - frog!'  
  
'What, just the one?'  
  
Willow, staring past Xander, slowly raised her arm, pointing a shaky hand toward the trees a few feet in front of them. Xander turn to look but couldn't make out anything among the trees. That is, until he looked straight up and saw two gigantic red bulbous eyes blink lazily from either side of one of the mighty cypress trunks.  
  
'Holy sh . . . !' Xander's voice was drowned out by a deafening croak that rumbled out of the huge vibrating throat sack of the twelve foot high bullfrog. Willow and Xander stood rooted to the spot for several long moments as the echo of the mighty 'burr-ruup' died away, then turned and ran as fast as they could back the way they came.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Somehow, in their panicked flight, blind luck led them to recross their original path into the bayou. When they unexpectedly emerged from the swamp beside the main branch of the river it was only a short walk upstream to the bridge Erzulie had indicated. Night had fully fallen - for the second time that day - and Buffy was nowhere to be seen.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Buffy at last ceased to struggle against the plants that restrained her. Exhausted, frustrated and afraid for the safety of her friends, she collapsed back against the tree trunk, finally giving herself up to tearful hopelessness. She slipped down into despair, all the fight gone out of her. As she relaxed the constraining tendrils loosened and fell away.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Once over the bridge Willow and Xander headed back towards the crossroads. In the far distance they could make out the lights of 'Le Grand Bokor'. Distant music floated to them on the still night air. Worried, they had scanned the bushes by the path at each end of the bridge, even risking to call out her name, but Buffy was not waiting for them as they had hoped. They continued on to the crossroad itself, hoping Buffy had gone on ahead.  
  
'She isn't here,' Willow said miserably. 'What should we do now?' They had less then two hours left and no idea how long it might take to work the reversal once they returned to the school library.  
  
'We'll have to go on, Will,' Xander said. 'Maybe we can come back after we give the tokens to Legba.'  
  
Neither of them wanted to press on without Buffy. Once they left the strange bayou world they might not be able to return. What would happen to Buffy then? Would she still be able to get home? If they stayed beyond the time limit, might the place cease to exist? The bubble of this reality could collapse around them . . . or take them with it.  
  
'One of us could go to the library while the other comes back here,' Willow suggested. It seemed a sensible alternative . . . if they had enough time.  
  
'We'd better get a move on then.' They took the right hand path as Bois had instructed.  
  
* * * * *  
  
They might be travelling though a dimensional anomaly but it was certainly well populated with night life. Cicadas sang in the warm night air, fireflies winked on and off, occasionally extinguished forever when a tiny bat swooped in to snatch one out of the dark sky for its dinner.  
  
The going was much easier along the smooth dirt road so Xander and Willow decided to jog part of the way, making good time in the full-moon light. They had not travelled far when they came upon a low stone signpost, leaning crookedly and half covered in moss and leaves.  
  
Xander cleared away some of the debris to reveal the deeply incised words 'Cimetière de la Croix' and an arrow pointing onward in the direction they were headed.  
  
'A cemetery,' Willow said glumly. This was not exactly the kind of place they had hoped to encounter next, especially in the darkness, but the sign was the only indication so far of . . . well, not 'life' exactly, but some kind of establishment at least.  
  
'Nothing in this place has turned out the way we expected, Will,' said Xander encouragingly. 'Maybe the graveyard here won't not be such a scary place after all . . . ' He trailed off, not believing it himself. Willow gave a deep sigh. They continued on.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The cemetery was immense, a vast metropolis of the dead. A pair of massive wrought iron gates stood open at the entrance, the road between as wide as a four lane highway. Walking through them, Willow noticed the intricate designs making up the gates included several of the vevers carved into the bracelets that Mama Lucette had given the unfortunate Cordettes. Inside the cemetery, streets wound through acres of mausoleums, obelisks and all manner of tombs and gravesites. It seemed as though all the architecture of the world was represented somewhere within the expanse of the great necropolis.  
  
Like everything else in this dimension, the graves were in various states of disrepair. Paths, wide and narrow, twisted around sun bleached tombs, crumbling walls jutted out into the walkways, decorative ironwork was rusty with age and neglect. Crosses and statues on tomb tops cast deeper shadows onto the night-blackened ground while dead ends added to the eeriness of their stroll through the boneyard.  
  
As before, they were guided to their next encounter by the sound of singing. A nasally voice led them down one of the wider thoroughfares where stone and marble tombs appeared to be better maintained. One ornate crypt, shaped like a small church with an arched doorway flanked by columns and topped with a Christian cross, was surrounded by dozens of tiny votive candles. To the left of the entrance was a small font, its basin overflowing with fresh fruit and flowers. On the right was a curved marble seat on which sat a tall man, deathly pale and skeletally thin, plucking the feathers from a black rooster's carcass. A fat old cat, once also black but now grizzled with age, curled at his feet, purring as the man sang:  
  
Si koko te gen dan li tap manje mayi griye.  
  
Se paske li pa gen dan ki fe l manje zozo kale!  
  
  
  
[If pussy had teeth, she could eat roast corn.  
  
Because she is toothless, she eats peeled cock!]  
  
'Fuck me!' he exclaimed loudly as the children approached, dropping the half-plucked chicken. He snatched up a top hat and cane and strode over to meet them. 'Do you know what fucking time it is?' Xander and Willow were frozen with surprise. 'Been chatting with that old piss-pot Bois have you?' He threw his arms around Willow and Xander's shoulders, hugging them close as he conducted them to the crypt. 'The old bastard!' He grinned at the children in turn. 'Hides all the fucking year in that damned swamp, then stuff me if he doesn't complain that no cunt ever visits!' All the other loa spoke like gentlemen, most of the time at least; this fellow was jovial enough but he swore like a teamster!  
  
His appearance was as remarkable as his language. He wore a long black tailcoat over a purple velvet waistcoat, skintight black pants, pointy-toed lizard-skin boots and a tall undertakers top-hat with long black ribbons hanging down the back. Strangest of all were his glasses; in the almost pitch dark among the tombs he wore a pair of sunglasses with the right lens missing.  
  
Shooing the old cat away, he pushed Willow down onto the seat, handing her the partly denuded poultry.  
  
'Here, finish off that fucker. We'll need it soon.' Willow's eyes grew wider, but she did as she was told.  
  
The loa picked out several bananas and a handful of small, hot red peppers from the food heaped in the marble font. These he handed to Xander along with a small iron knife.  
  
'Chop those up, lad!' He clapped Xander hard on the back, popping a handful of the volatile peppers in his own mouth and chewing noisily. 'Try some while you're at it. They'll put lead in your pencil!'  
  
'Umm, sir?' Xander hesitated to interrupt, fearing what the loa might say if he were actually annoyed! But something had to be said. 'We're not actually here for dinner.'  
  
The loa threw back his skull-like head and roared with laughter. It was not a pretty sight.  
  
'Why, boy!' he snorted, holding his emaciated sides as though they would burst, 'you're a fucking comedian!' Through chuckles that he could not quite suppress, the loa explained that the chicken and other ingredients were needed to properly consecrate the token he had provided for Legba.  
  
While the youngsters prepared the sacrifice, the loa sat down beside Willow. From beneath the seat he took an unlabeled bottle of rum in which a string of the tiny red peppers were marinating, removed the cork and took several deep swallows of the doubly potent liquor. Then, from his inside coat pocket, he drew two tailor made cigarettes offering one to Willow who shook her head in refusal. Shrugging his narrow shoulders, the loa lit them from one of the candles and proceeded to smoke both at once. Between puffs, he introduced himself to his guests.  
  
'Baron Cemetiere I am called by some, also known as La Croix, but you may know me as Baron Samedi, Master of the Cemetery and Guardian of Ancestral Knowledge.' He drew deeply on the cigarettes, inhaling the blue-grey smoke that, oddly, was not expelled when he exhaled. 'Those whom I punish sometimes call me Baron Criminel.'  
  
Willow, who had not spoken up til now, asked, 'Did you punish Cordelia and the others?'  
  
Xander stopped cutting up the peppers and bananas and looked up, afraid that Willow's question might anger the man. The gaunt loa, also surprised at the little redhead's audacity, only grunted.  
  
'You're a plucky little bitch, aren't you!' he said heartily. 'I like that in a young girl!' He reached across and pinched Willow's cheek fondly, much to her distaste. 'No, I did not punish them. Not that the little shits don't deserve it! I merely performed a favour for Maman Lucette.'  
  
'That's a bit of a fine distinction, isn't it?' Willow mumbled, pulling the last few feathers from the dead chicken.  
  
'Any houngan or mambo who wishes to change someone from human to animal form must first gain my permission,' said the Baron. 'But I do not govern their actions nor their intentions.' He continued, levelling his cadaverous gaze on the girl, 'I am also the power behind magic that kills and I control the souls of those who die by magic. So I would suggest, little sister,' his voice took on the cavernous timbre of rolling gravestones, 'that you don't fuck with me! To konprann?'  
  
'Yes,' Willow said meekly. 'I understand.'  
  
'Well, I'm all done!' Xander announced enthusiastically, hoping to break the mounting tension. The last thing they needed now, having come so far, was to have this loa refuse to help them.  
  
'Bon! Then let us continue.' Opening the door to the crypt, Samedi disappeared inside for a few moments, emerging with a small goatskin drum in one hand and a ceremonial asson rattle in the other. Around his high collar was a long necklace of red clay beads. Handing Xander the drum and rattle, the Baron unwound the necklace and motioned Willow to step forward.  
  
'It will be your honour, child, to perform the ceremony to sanctify the kolye necklace and activate its power.' He wrapped the string of beads in a figure eight around Willow's waist and neck, crossing it in the middle of her chest. She felt the dusty beads; they were rough and porous. A little of the unfired red clay rubbed off and stained her fingers. Willow looked directly into the Baron's sunken eyes.  
  
'What do I have to do?'  
  
'You must consecrate the kolye in fire and blood.' Samedi picked up the plucked chicken and handed it to Willow along with the iron knife Xander had used to slice the fruit. 'First, you must present the sacrifice to the four points of the compass, then pour its blood upon that tomb.' He indicated a slab-style grave in the next plot. On the flat table-like base was a representation of the Baron's own ve-ve; at the head was a simple white marble cross.  
  
Willow looked to Xander to bolster her courage. Samedi noticed and said darkly, 'Come, come, little sister, you will do much worse than slit the throat of a fucking dead chicken before you and I meet again at la Ville des Morts.'  
  
'What do you mean!' Willow was unnerved by the loa's words.  
  
Xander stepped forward and grasped her by the elbow, whispering urgently. 'Go on, Will, you can do it,' he said. 'He's just trying to shake you up.'  
  
Willow walked over to the grave and lifted the chicken carcass over her head, lowering and lifting it again and again as she presented the sacrifice to each of the cardinal points in turn. Then, taking a deep breath, she sliced through its narrow neck, the still-warm blood spurting out onto the cross, drenching it with the thin red liquid. Willow laid the remains on top of the vever design.  
  
Samedi stepped forward, splashed the tomb with rum and set it alight wit a cigarette end, throwing a handful of the peppers and bananas into the flames. The chicken was quickly consumed and the cooling ashes covered with a white silk cloth.  
  
The loa began to chant a slow wordless tune. Nodding to Xander to beat the skin drum, Samedi provided a counterpoint rhythm with the snake vertebrae rattle as the three of them paced solemnly around the tomb. Willow clapped her hands in sync with the drumbeat until the Baron cried, 'It is done!'  
  
The loa stepped up to the tomb and scooped up a handful of the greasy ashes, smearing them on the kolye and a little on Willow's cheeks and forehead.  
  
'Wear the necklace until Legba tells you to remove it,' he told her. 'Now you must hurry. Your friends are waiting.'  
  
The teenagers began to walk away when Xander remembered that Buffy was still missing. He decided to chance asking the Baron to help them find her but when he turn back to ask him the loa was gone. Willow continued on a few metres before she realised the boy was not with her. Looking back to see what was keeping him she saw the same uncanny scene that had given him pause. There was not a light or flower to be seen. The crypt itself was a mass of crumbling blocks almost entirely wrapped in the close embrace of long-dead ivy. In the far distance they could hear a mournful refrain.  
  
Veye le a piti, veye le a,  
  
Veye le a piti, veye le a,  
  
Loa yo pa nan rans, O!  
  
  
  
[Watch the time, child, watch the time,  
  
Watch the time, child, watch the time,  
  
The loa are not fooling around!]  
  
Time was indeed growing short. Less then fifty minutes remained to get to the crossroads then back to town, locate Legba, return to the school and perform whatever ceremony was required to restore Cordy and the others to human form. Willow and Xander set off at a run.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Reaching the crossroad, they at last had a piece of good luck; Buffy was already there. Willow rushed up to her and threw her arms around the dishevelled blonde who was covered with thin red welts from the vine. She had also been cut by thorns and fallen in the mud while making her way back through the swamp.  
  
'Are you two OK? Did you get the other tokens?' Buffy asked. Willow indicated the kolye and Xander held up the ju-ju skull. 'I've been waiting here so long I thought I'd missed you. I really got worried after the sun went down.'  
  
'That's impossible,' Xander said. 'You can't have been here before us. We would have seen you.'  
  
Willow agreed. 'That's right, Buffy. It's only been an hour since we came this way and it was already way past dark then.'  
  
'Well, let's chalk it up to another Alice-In-Wonderland-Moment,' Buffy said. 'We'd better get a move on.' There were just thirty-seven minutes left.  
  
* * * * *  
  
They jogged all the way to the city to find Legba waiting impatiently by the door of the Blues Bayou.  
  
'Ki le li ye?' he called to them in Kreyol. 'The time? The time?' Xander's watch showed 5.34. 'Vit! Vit! Go quickly then! Through the bar to the back door!'  
  
'But what do we do with the tokens?' Buffy asked as he herded them in trough the nightclub's entrance. 'Aren't you going to use them to remove the spell?'  
  
'Give them to Maman Lucette!' Legba called. 'She'll know what to do!' He closed the door between them.  
  
This time the bar was packed with noisy clientele. A Zydeco band in one corner played with frenzied discord.  
  
The door, conveniently marked 'Exit', was across the room; the teens would have to make their way through the rough-looking crowd. They got as far as the main bar before all hell broke loose.  
  
A red-bearded giant with a tray full of drinks swung around without looking and upended the entire tray of jugs onto Willow, drenching the girl in sticky freezing-cold beer. She gasped in shock, open-mouthed and dripping, then screamed as the huge drunken Cajun reached out with both meaty hands and grabbed her by the shirtfront, pulling her off her feet. The kolye around her neck snapped, beads clattering to the floor, rolling under patron's tables . . . and underfoot.  
  
'Kouiyon! You stupid girl!' he yelled, shaking Willow like a ragdoll. 'Why don't you watch where you're going?'  
  
A strong hand on his bicep spun him around. Expecting an attacker his own size, Red-Beard dropped Willow to the floor and threw a wild punch . . . right over the head of the little girl who had just manhandled him!  
  
Several of the giant's equally substantial, and equally drunken, companions burst into laughter at the sight. He gave a bull-like bellow and waded into their number, landing a resounding smack on the nose of the nearest of his fellows. The entire place erupted into a free-for-all.  
  
Buffy managed to hold her own in the scuffle but Xander did not fare so well. Trying to back himself into a sheltered corner, he managed instead to bump into a brawl-in-progress. One bar-room warrior grabbed him by the jacket, tearing the lining and tipping the ju-ju skull out onto the floor. Xander cringed at the awful crunching sound of the ju-ju being ground to shards under the boot of another good ole boy.  
  
Willow was on hands and knees under a table trying to retrieve some of the kolye beads when she felt a hand grasp her by the leg and start pulling her out. She kicked backwards and tried to flatten herself on the floor as the hand reached for the waist of her jeans to get a better grip. Getting up onto her knees again she managed to scramble forward a few inches and the fingers of the unseen assailant hooked into the back pocket instead. One hard tug ripped the denim away, tearing out the gris-gris bag and scattering the contents all over the floor where it was quickly trampled into the morass of spilled drinks, blood and peanut shells.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Parked outside the Sunnydale Mall in the MG, Julia sat tapping the steering wheel in frustration, checking her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes and wishing she smoked.  
  
'Where the hell are they?' she wondered out loud. Waiting at the school were six students whose fate would shortly be decided if Buffy and the other two did not arrive in the next few minutes. Now Julia was concerned for their safety too. She started the engine, wanting to be ready when they appeared. She glanced at her watch again. Twelve minutes left. Just enough time to get back to the library if she floored it and ran any red lights.  
  
Just then, three bedraggled but familiar figures emerged from the cinema entrance. Relieved, Julia honked the horn and drove up to meet them.  
  
'Get in!' she said, throwing open the passenger side door.  
  
'It's too late.' Buffy looked drawn and exhausted while Xander sported the beginnings of a nasty black eye. Willow was in tears.  
  
'There's just enough time to make it if we hurry!' Julia insisted. The kids made no move to get into the little sports car.  
  
'Time doesn't matter now,' Buffy said wretchedly. 'We don't have the tokens.' Julia looked puzzled. 'The things we needed to perform the reversal. We lost them.'  
  
After a few minutes of stunned silence Julia said quietly, 'Well, let's get back anyway. Maybe there's something else that can be done.' But no one wanted to contemplate the alternative they had been offered - to sacrifice one of the animals. Dejectedly, they returned to the library to face together whatever outcome their failure had wrought.  
  
* * * * *  
  
When they arrived at the library Giles and Mama Lucette were waiting for them. As were Cordelia and her friends - very disorientated, but seated around the room in their human forms once more, drinking hot tea. Giles had raided the storeroom for lab coats for the kids to wear. Then, of course, he had put the kettle on.  
  
Buffy and the others were incredulous. They had assumed that when the time was up the others would remain animals forever! But here they all were, hale if not hearty.  
  
'Julia,' Giles said, once the scene had sunk in. 'You and I had better drive the children home as soon as possible, don't you think?' Cordy and friends were like sleepwalkers, responding when spoken to and moving when directed, but still not fully aware of their surroundings or, hopefully, what had happened to them.  
  
*They look like zombies*! Julia thought sickly.  
  
'Will they be alright?' she asked out loud.  
  
'Mrs Janvier says in about half an hour,' Giles assured her. 'So we'd better get them home before then.' He turned and spoke to Buffy. 'We'll be back soon.' They guided the unresisting teenagers out to the car park, leaving Buffy, Willow and Xander with Mama Lucette.  
  
Buffy was trembling with fatigue. The combination of immense relief and utter disbelief left her completely befuddled. She hardly knew what to say or which emotion to respond to first. She chose anger.  
  
'What the *hell* was that all about?' Buffy demanded of the old mambo when she finally had wit enough to speak. 'I though you said they'd stay animals if we didn't get back in time!'  
  
The old lady shrugged. 'I never *actually* said that. You just assumed it.' She smiled infuriatingly. Buffy was speechless again.  
  
'You know, Buff,' Xander said helpfully, 'she's right. She only said . . .' His next words sizzled away under Buffy's hot glare.  
  
'So all we had to do was *wait*!' Buffy's voice rose another few decibels. 'Why didn't you tell us that in the first place?'  
  
'You only had to ask me and I would have told you.'  
  
'Why did you let us go through all that?'  
  
'To teach you a lesson.'  
  
'To teach *us* a lesson!' This was even more unbelievable! 'We didn't do anything wrong! We're the ones who tried to help you!'  
  
Mama Lucette laughed. 'You misunderstand! The lesson is not a punishment, child. It is a gift from the loa to you and your friends.' She raised her arms expansively. 'This was all for you.'  
  
'What about Cordelia and her friends?' Willow asked. 'This is going to affect them too.'  
  
'They won't remember any of this, well, not much of it anyway. Life has lessons enough in store for all them.'  
  
'Right,' Xander said. 'Like how to decide between the BMW sports or the sedan?'  
  
Mama Lucette shook her head. 'They have harder lessons coming than that, I'm afraid. And some quite soon.'  
  
'Well, I don't see it.' Buffy crossed her arms defiantly. 'What lesson am I supposed to have learned from being strung up in a tree for hours, helpless, while my friends drag themselves through swamps and graveyards?'  
  
'Perhaps that not every problem cannot be resolved by force?' offered the mambo. 'That sometimes patience and stillness is all that is required.'  
  
Buffy was not going to allow herself to be convinced. 'You put my friends in danger to teach me some kind of stupid Zen lesson?'  
  
'Maybe your friends are stronger than you think.'  
  
'Actually,' ventured Willow, remembering the sacred glade, 'it was kinda interesting. Even fun.'  
  
Xander rubbed his swollen purpling eye, adding sarcastically, 'Yeah, way better than the Ghost Train ride at the state fair!'  
  
'Xander, we were only seven years old then!' Willow grinned and elbowed him playfully in the ribs, making Xander smile too. What the heck, it was all over now! Why dwell on it?  
  
'All except for those weird Mardi Gras clowns,' he added seriously, not quite able to suppress a shudder. 'Those guys were *way* too . . . clown- like!'  
  
'I learned something, I think,' Willow said.  
  
'What's that, Will?' Xander wrapped his arms around his friend's shoulders.  
  
'That I have more courage than I thought. That I don't have to give in to my fears.' Willow paused and sniggered. 'And that I still hate frogs!'  
  
Lucette smiled and looked to Xander. 'And you, young Mr Harris?'  
  
Xander thought for a moment. 'I learned to trust my instincts. I learned that may not be the strongest . . .' He looked at Buffy, who looked at her feet, 'or the smartest . . .' He looked at Willow, who went coy all of a sudden, 'and I'm definitely not the bravest! But I can still help my friends. So, I guess I've learned that strength comes from inside and even a coward can sometimes become a hero . . . if his friends need him.' He hugged the blushing Willow a little closer. Lucette nodded and looked pleased.  
  
'I think it was all just a big waste of time!' Buffy couldn't believe Willow and Xander were taking this so calmly. They had been manipulated, frightened and physically assaulted, then expected to be thankful when told it was all for their own good! Now they sounded like they were ready to go out for ice cream! Well, Buffy wasn't going to stand for it!  
  
'All learned,' she added pointedly, 'is that just because you help someone it doesn't mean you can trust them!' She stormed off angrily.  
  
'Buffy!' Willow started after her but Mama Lucette put out a restraining hand.  
  
'Let her go, little sister Willow. She must find her own way to the truth. After all,' the old woman smiled, 'there are many paths to wisdom.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
On Monday the school was abuzz with gossip about Cordy's highly successful 'summer theme' party. Apparently she, the Cordettes and the boys recovered quickly once they were home and the party had gone ahead as planned.  
  
Buffy, Willow and Xander passed Cordelia in the hallway by the lockers. The Cordettes were trailing along in her glorious wake as usual.  
  
'Hey, Buff.' She sauntered up to the lockers, unlocked her own and began taking books out. 'I suppose you've heard? You really missed a great party on Saturday. I can only assume you had a better elsewhere to be.' Cordy's girlfriends giggled maliciously. 'You really could have been someone around here if only you'd played your cards right and come to the party instead of hanging out in the library with the nerd herd.' Cordelia slammed the locker door shut and walked off down the hall to her next class.  
  
'I guess she doesn't remember any of it, like Mama Lucette said.' Willow sighed. She had kind of hoped that a few memories of that evening's bizarre events might have lingered on. Somewhere deep down, maybe, just surfacing occasionally to cause a few sleepless nights.  
  
'Yeah,' Xander agreed. 'But she's still as catty as ever!' The girls groaned at his feeble attempt at humour.  
  
As Cordelia reached the classroom door she stopped to let the Cordettes go in first. When they were out of sight, she turned to look back at Buffy, mouthing, 'Thank you!' She did remember after all!  
  
* * * * * 


	4. Epilogue and Author Notes

Epilogue.  
  
Buffy sat on the kerb outside the school gate waiting for her mother to pick her up after work. They made a habit of going out for coffee together at least once a week. Joyce thought it would give her a chance to talk to her daughter in a 'non-confrontational setting'. Buffy wished she would drop the pop psychology and simply talk to her like an adult. Still, Joyce meant well and Buffy enjoyed spending the time with her Mom regardless of the ulterior motives.  
  
*It's not like I can tell her what really goes on in my life*! Buffy thought. *Might as well just enjoy her company*.  
  
Julia was about to drive out of the staff car park when she noticed Buffy waiting. She drew up alongside and got out of the convertible. Buffy stood up as the older woman approached.  
  
'Waiting for your Mum?'  
  
'Yep. Coffee night.' Buffy said wryly. 'Can't wait!'  
  
Julia smiled. At least the girl seemed in better spirits now. Almost a week had passed since their 'Adventures in Voodoo-Land' as they were calling it, and Buffy had been the last to bounce back from the experience.  
  
'Do you have anything planned for the weekend?' Julia asked.  
  
'Not really. Willow's going to help me with my biology assignment and Xander's going to help with . . . well, he's bringing the snacks!' They both laughed.  
  
'I thought you and I might do something together for a change,' Julia said. 'Have you ever been to Santa Clarita?' Buffy shook her head. 'There's someone there who I think would like very much to meet you.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
'What you do unto another, you do unto you, because you ARE the other. Voo doo. View you. We are mirrors of each others souls.' - Voodoo saying.  
  
* * * * Fin * * * *  
  
Authors Notes:  
  
Baron Samedi, also known as Baron Cimetiers, is the Sovereign of the Cemeteries. He has power over zombies and decides if people can be changed into animals.  
  
Maitre Carrefour is Lord of the Crossroads and of demons. He governs bad luck, deliberate destruction, misfortune and injustice and, as he mentioned, is lord of lots of others things too! Grand Bois or Gran Boa is Master of Night Earth and Night Forests. He doesn't like to be seen but lives in the deep forest where the vegetation is wild. He is the protector of wildlife. Legba is the lwa [correct spelling of 'loa'] of communication between the living and the dead. Maitresse Erzulie is the ideal of alluring womanhood, 'goddess' of love, help, beauty and fortune.  
  
I did not originally intend for this story to have a voodoo theme but once I began, it seemed the logical way to go. Strangely enough, as I had written several characters and scenes first then later went to research the 'personalities' of the vodoun lwa, the characters I had already written seemed to match almost perfectly with 'actual' vodoun spirits. Many other complementary attributes, powers and aspects of the lwa suggested ways to 'flesh out' the characters, action and 'props', so everything came together very nicely.  
  
It turns out that vodoun is a fascinating and complex religion with a huge pantheon of 'gods' or, more correctly, helpful spirits, and another story or two is already bubbling away in my twisted brain!  
  
Vodoun does have a slightly scary aspect, at least as far as I'm concerned with my traditional Western Christian background, so I hope that I have done justice to the lwa in my depictions of them and not offended anyone [living or dead!] Most of them do seem to have a pretty good sense of humour!  
  
If you would like to read more about vodoun or research it for fic of your own, I'd suggest the following links as a good place to start: Haiti Voodoo URL: http://www.webster.edu/~corbetre/haiti/voodoo/voodoo.htm Vodoun Culture URL: http://geocities.com/Athens/Delphi/5319/ayibobo.htm Mambo Racine's page URL: http://members.aol.com/racine125/index.html  
  
Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone who has read and enjoyed my fics and especially to those who have offered kind and supportive feedback.  
  
Thanks also to those members of the Yahoo! Fanfic Geography Group who promptly answered a couple of little questions for me in the midst of writing this fic.  
  
I have started a new list for Buffy and Angel fanfic writers who might like to organise events centred around BtVS and AtS with a focus on writing fic. There's currently a large picture gallery on the site but this will be culled soon so visit and join up if you want to download any of the great pictures or send them as postcards via Yahoo. I'm also encouraging OT posts on resource sites for writers of B/A and general sites for writers, articles on fanfic etc. Posting of fic is also allowed but is not the main focus of the group. If this is of interest to you please visit at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sunnydalewriters 


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